A Change Of Plans
by Dustmites
Summary: Sometimes things change and it can throw your entire life plan off track. That certainly happened to Hermione Granger, and now she finds herself living in the muggle world once again. But what happens when she runs into an old 'friend? D/Hr, EWE
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I'm only posting this once as it will never change. I do not own Harry Potter or any other parts of the wonderful universe that J.K. Rowling created and I'm not profiting from this story in any way shape or form.**

**Hi. I decided to start a new story, so this is it. This is set post-war with all who died remaining dead, and is not DH epilogue compatible. Hopefully I'll be getting updates out regularly as I've just finished drowning in assessment, but I'm not sure as I still have two speeches, an essay and an animation to do. Without further ado, read away!**

**P.S. I really do love reviews!**

* * *

She sometimes wondered how she got here.

One year ago she was Hermione Weasley, devoted wife to her husband Ronald Weasley, best friend to Harry and Ginny Potter, career focused and level-headed. She had been working to establish her own charities for the rights of magical creatures and had successfully restarted S.P.E.W. Her life was full of elegant charity functions and balls, long evening gowns and fancy champagne. She rubbed shoulders with the high and mighty of the wizarding world, often dining with the Minster for Magic. Her and Ron lived in a beautiful apartment and owned a holiday house in France which they frequented twice a year. She loved her work, her husband, her friends.

And then it changed.

Marrying into such a large family, Hermione knew it was only a matter of time before her mother-in-law was pressuring her into having children and continuing on the Weasley line. That day came three years into her marriage to Ron at a typical Sunday lunch at The Burrow. In an awkward series of events, Molly had asked when she would be getting grandchildren from the couple. Hermione had said that they were both too busy with their careers to think about having children, but Ron had sided with his mother and asked when Hermione would be ready for kids. Hermione had shifted uncomfortably in her seat, wishing she could sink into the earth. She slowly told them that she wanted to be more established in her career before having children, and she didn't feel quite ready. Molly had been offended and Ron had a scowl on his face for the rest of the lunch. Her _dear_ mother-in-law had reminded her that all of the other Weasley couples had started having children and it was better to have your children young. Hermione had spluttered out that she was only twenty-three and would like to wait at least another two years before having children. Harry had cleared his throat and hastily changed the topic.

Upon returning home, Ron and Hermione had rowed. Ron was angry at how she had spoken to his mother, his face turning as red as his hair and Hermione had stayed calm, stating she was simply not ready for children. Ron had stormed off in a rage and Hermione had felt crushed. When her husband returned in the early hours of the morning he had slept on the couch and ignored her for the rest of the day that followed. The isolation from her husband was unbearable, and Hermione was tossing over in her head whether or not children was such a bad idea. Maybe she could convince Ron into the two of them just having one child. It wouldn't be _that_ hard, would it? They could get a nanny to help look after the baby. After all, Hermione had been raised by a nanny whilst her parents opened their dentist office and she turned out fine. When Ron came home that night she had sprung him with a home cooked meal and a lacy nightgown. Dinner had been forgotten along with the Contraceptive Charm, and a few weeks later Hermione found herself throwing up into the toilet at all hours of the day. Ron was ecstatic. Hermione was regretting her decision.

And then it all went wrong.

Her stomach was sore. Her Healer had said the pregnancy was progressing normally, but something felt off. She was sitting behind her desk at work, trying to concentrate on the task at hand – organizing a charity function to gain more funding for S.P.E.W. – but it was so difficult. The pain in her belly increased and she could feel dampness on her inner thigh. She looked down and gasped at the sight of red staining her robes and reached a tentative hand. The bleeding increased with the pain and she cried out. Her assistant heard her pleas for help and came into the room just in time to catch Hermione's body as she passed out. When the witch regained consciousness she was lying in a bed at St. Mungo's. Ron sat beside her holding her hand, his face deathly pale and posture slumped. A Healer walked in and apologized. She had miscarried. There had been unknown complications. They were sorry.

That was truly the beginning of the end.

Two more pregnancies resulted in two more miscarriages. The relationship grew strained. Molly was more upset than Hermione. And then came the day Hermione had been waiting for. She was sitting in her office, two months after the last miscarriage, writing a letter to one of her major donators when a barn owl soared through the opened window and dropped a letter on her desk, knocking over a pot of ink. She had scowled and cleaned the mess up, trying to shoo the bird from the room. She had too much to do before she read and answered whatever message the owl was delivering, but the pest wouldn't budge. With a sigh she had abandoned the letter to her donator and picked up the envelope. She recognized her name written in Ron's untidy scrawl and her stomach dropped. Inside was an apology letter and divorce papers. The letter said that Ron had been having an affair for the last two months, since the latest miscarriage, and he was sorry that they hadn't worked out as well as they had hoped.

She wasn't surprised. Since the miscarriage he had been working late at the Ministry almost every night, but she had suspected he had found someone else. She felt surprisingly calm at this news and realized that the owl that had delivered the message was waiting for her to sign the papers and tick the right boxes so it could return them to her _husband_. In a totally businesslike manner she signed and ticked and tucked the papers into an envelope. The papers had signalled that she would receive ownership of the large houses they owned as he would be moving in with his mistress. The owl hooted softly when she tied the letter to its leg before soaring back out through the window. When the bird was no more than a speck in the distance she turned back to her letter and almost forgot about her broken relationship.

That night she had slept soundly.

Her bed had been empty and she hadn't a care in the world when she lay down to sleep. She had dropped off quickly into a dreamless slumber, free of Ron's snores and nightmares of failed pregnancies. She woke feeling refreshed in the morning, a Sunday, having slept in three hours later than normal. Her pleasant mood didn't last long, however, because Ginny appeared in her fireplace at noon that day, her stomach swollen with her first, and successful, pregnancy. The fiery redhead was furious that Hermione had let her brother go so easily and that news of Ron's affair was now splashed all across the wizarding tabloids. Hermione's name was also being dragged through the mud with the reporters going so far as to say that she hadn't miscarried but _aborted_ the pregnancies wilfully and faked the trauma of losing the babies. Furious, Hermione had thanked Ginny for letting her know and had started writing angry letters to the editors of _The Daily Prophet_ and _Witch Weekly_.

It had gotten better, but now it was going to get a whole lot worse.

As soon as she sent her letters, four owls soared into her study, each a regal looking bird with elegant letters in their beaks. They belonged to her four highest donators, all of whom were writing to inform her that due to the latest scandal in the wizarding world, namely her supposed abortions and another rumour saying the pregnancies hadn't even been Ronald's, they were no longer going to donate to her causes as they couldn't have their names associated with such business. The owls had swooped from the room as soon as she had accepted their letters and now she was left alone, her name battered and bruised and her charities unfunded. How had it all turned so bad in just one morning?

So now here she was.

She sat at the reception desk at a muggle advertising firm, answering the phone whilst emailing her boss (the lowest ranking one of eleven) to remind him of an important meeting. She was nearly the lowest ranking member of the firm, but it was better than being recognized on every street corner in the wizarding world as 'Ron Weasley's _promiscuous_ ex-wife'. She hadn't been a part of that world for six months, scarcely even using her magic anymore. She had sold her holiday house in France and moved into a smaller house. She had lost contact with the majority of the wizarding world, only sending occasional letters to her ex-husband and Harry. Her life had, admittedly, gone downhill, but it was easier this way. She didn't have to fret about reporters waiting around street corners or hidden photographers catching her in compromising positions. Last she heard from Harry was that there was a rumour floating around saying she had run off with Viktor Krum once more. That was three weeks ago.

Life was getting better again.

The glass doors opened and a breeze blew in, ruffling the papers on the desk ever so slightly. It was enough to capture her attention and she looked up to see a black suit waiting patiently for her to hang up the phone and address him. She scribbled down the details of the person on the other end of the line, promising she would talk to her boss and arrange a meeting with them to show new advertisements for some dental floss. She smiled wryly as she thought of her parents. They were overjoyed that she was spending more time in the muggle world. She visited them every Sunday for lunch, and they had never been happier. She hung up the phone with a click and looked up to face the wearer of the black suit. Her eyes widened slightly.

Draco Malfoy was standing at her desk.

* * *

As much as he sometimes hated to admit it, Draco Malfoy had been wrong.

He had been wrong in blindly following his father's lead. He had been wrong in how he had treated all those he had believed to be lesser than him at school. He had been wrong on so many levels that sometimes he didn't even know where to begin. So when the war was over and he was given a chance to start afresh, old prejudices aside, he grasped the opportunity eagerly and made plans to reinvent himself. The reinventing hadn't gone exactly to plan, however. His father who had been spared a stint in Azkaban had arranged Draco to marry another pureblood, Astoria Greengrass, and had consequently planned the rest of his son's life out.

Astoria Greengrass was worse than Pansy Parkinson.

Draco had struggled to remain in a relationship with Astoria. The younger witch was clingy and possessive, jealous and spoilt. She would laugh in a high, shrill cackle whenever Draco said anything and dug her false nails into his arm as she clutched onto him. She would throw a tantrum if he denied her anything and those nights would end with Astoria sulking off home to ask her precious _daddy_ for money and Draco with a pounding headache. Then had come the whole pregnancy scandal.

He absolutely could _not_ stand her.

Astoria had bounced into the dining room of Malfoy Manor one morning, grinning from ear to ear. Narcissa, who made no secret of her dislike for the other witch, had politely excused herself and glided from the room, leaving Draco alone with his wife. Oh, how he loathed her. She had seated herself in his lap and tossed her arms around his neck, and then she said the two words that made him want to end it then and there. I'm pregnant. He had choked on his tea and Astoria had laughed, that cackle that was oh so similar to that of a hyena. She latched on tighter and he stood up, knocking her to the ground. She had pouted and announced that he absolutely _had_ to help her up. She was his _pregnant_ wife after all. He had pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it at her.

She got the wrong idea and screamed murder.

Lucius and Narcissa appeared in an instant. Narcissa cried out to Draco, begging him not to do something he would regret. Lucius had tried to be the peacemaker for once. Draco was confused, but did not look away from Astoria who was cowering on the floor. He muttered a spell and her stomach glowed red. She wasn't pregnant. She had lied. She had hoped that the idea of a baby would make her less repulsive to him. She had been wrong. As usual.

That had been the final straw.

They were divorced by the end of the week and Astoria moved back in with her parents. Draco had told his father to _never_ involve himself in his personal affairs again and informed his mother that he was leaving for a while. He just wanted to live a little without the reign of his father looming overhead. He had packed his bags and moved to London. His first choice for accommodation was The Leaky Cauldron. He stayed there for a week, venturing into Diagon Alley each day to amuse himself, but he soon got tired of shopping. He needed a change.

And then a crazy idea struck him.

With a few monetary offerings and some research, Draco assured himself a place at a muggle university. Perhaps _this _was what he needed. He rented a flat closer to his new school and mastered the art of dressing like a muggle. He was nineteen, divorced, and studying advertising. He kept his past failure at a marriage unknown to his new muggle companions. After all, it had only lasted two months and was a time in his life he would rather forget. Besides, most people in the muggle world didn't get married until they were at least twenty.

He liked this life.

There were girls, bars, and lots of sex. The sex in the muggle world was amazing. He liked how the women didn't throw themselves on him because of his money and status. They didn't know who he was, and that was how he liked it. He could love them and leave them without feeling guilty. He was well-liked by the males at his university as well, striking up _friendships_ with some. This new relationship was strange for Draco. At Hogwarts he had only had goons who stuck with him because he was rich and powerful. His new _friends_ thought he was strange. He didn't own a phone or know how to use a computer properly. He had an unusual name and often said things that confused them.

University had passed by too quickly for Draco's liking, and he had soon graduated. He moved back in with his parents for a brief time, but the constant use of magic for such simple tasks grew to aggravate him. He had grown used to doing simple, menial tasks by hand. That was the norm for him now, yet his parents looked as him as though he was an alien when he had carried his empty plate from breakfast to the kitchen by hand. They were either used to using magic to do so or allow the house elves to do it. Besides, the magic in the house was interfering with his _computer_ and _cell phone_ which his muggle friends had insisted he purchased.

So he left the manor and travelled back to the muggle world.

He had grown increasingly bored from doing nothing and was itching to put his education into action. He had applied at a few advertising firms as a sales representative and designer, charming female employers and impressing male employers with his ease and relaxation and had managed to secure a position at a small firm that was based just outside of London. He buried himself in his work, enjoying the care and time he put into it to come up with a final product. He drafted new advertisements for all sorts of products, his most successful selling product a muggle car. The firm had been approached by a large car manufacturer and given a chance at advertising their vehicle to hit the big time. The task had been handed to Draco who worked tirelessly for months until he came away with the _perfect_ advertisement which was then splashed across billboards and newspapers.

Success was sweet, but the firm was too small for his likings. He wanted bigger jobs and more of them, so with reluctance he handed in his resignation form and farewelled the small firm. He relocated once more into central London, purchasing a larger flat right in the middle of the city. He scouted around and had been a part of a few interviews but had not yet received any calls back from the prospective employers. Not at all disheartened, he continued to look and finally found the position he had been dreaming of. In the middle of the city, just ten minutes away from his apartment, was a position as a designer in a major company.

He had called ahead and scheduled an interview, and was now hovering outside the building, fifteen minutes early. His excitement had preceded him and he found himself waking far too early and walking far too quickly to the place of the interview. He was dressed in an impeccable muggle suit and had a portfolio under one arm. When he realized the strange looks he was getting from passersby, he ducked into the building and went to the reception desk where a pretty young secretary was typing away at her computer and talking on the phone. She motioned for him to wait and he nodded, confused. This woman looked so familiar, and yet different. He tried to think of where he knew her from but was unsuccessful until she hung up the phone and turned to face him.

Hermione Granger was the pretty secretary behind the desk.


	2. Chapter 2

It took Draco half a moment to regain his composure and set his face.

"Good morning, Miss Granger. Fancy seeing you here," he said, placing his portfolio carefully on the desk. "I believe I'm expected for an eleven o'clock interview." Her mouth opened and closed twice more before she cleared her throat and stood, holding her hand out for him to shake. He accepted it and quirked a brow.

"Of course. If you will please follow me. You're a little bit earlier than expected, so you may have to wait for a few minutes," she gestured for him to follow as she went down the hall. He couldn't help but notice what a gorgeous arse she had. Her hips sway from side to side as she walks, her curves outlined perfectly by that figure-hugging black dress. "Please wait here," she came to a stop and gestured to a seat outside a nondescript black door.

He looked over her face, pinpointing the changes she'd gone through since he last saw her. She wore glasses now, rectangular shaped with dark frames. Her bushy brown hair was cut short, the longest curls barely grazing her shoulders. She looked over him once and nodded.

"If you need anything then please don't hesitate to ask," she tried to smile but it came out as a grimace and turned on her heel, marching back towards her desk. He shook his head at her bizarre behaviour and waited.

* * *

Shit. Fuck. Crap. Damn it all to hell!

She had been running for what felt like forever and now that she had slowed down her past was catching up, and it was the worst part of her past. Her brain could not register that Draco Malfoy was standing at her desk, looking totally at ease with the situation. His hair was longer and not gelled back like he had it in their school days, and he looked comfortable in his crisp black suit.

After a few moments she regained her voice and stood, shaking her head and asking for him to follow her to the interview suite. She had to restrain herself from running back to her desk when she left him, instead choosing not to look behind her. She heard the door open and shut and she released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She had tried to act like she did not recognize him, but he hadn't been fooled. He knew from the moment that he saw her that _she_ was Hermione Granger and that _she_ couldn't forget he was Draco Malfoy.

She tried to block the thought of him from her mind.

The phone rang and she answered, grateful for the distraction. It was the man trying to advertise dental floss calling once again to be assured that his interview time had been pencilled in. She tried not to chuckle as the panicky man explained that his design was _revolutionary_, and that it would _change the world of dentistry_. Twenty minutes and four people on hold later, she managed to hang up and tend to her other calls.

Another half hour went by and she heard the door to the interview suite open and happy voices.

"Thank you very much, Mister Malfoy. I shall have Miss Granger contact you tomorrow to inform you whether or not you have the position," her boss was happy, happier than she had ever heard him. She secretly, _guiltily_, wondered if Malfoy had cast a spell on him to gain the position.

"Thank _you_ for your time, sir. I shall await your call. Good afternoon," Malfoy farewelled the older man and Hermione quickly turned back to her computer, answering a non-existent email.

The black suit reappeared at her desk and she tried to ignore it.

"Granger, I know that you recognize me. Seeing that there is a high possibility that we will be working together soon, it would be far better, not to mention mature, if you actually acknowledged me. Where did all your Gryffindor courage get to?" his voice was silky and he leant over the desk at her.

"Good day, Mister Malfoy," she nodded once and returned to her computer.

"Why so formal, Granger? You were never so polite back in our schooldays," he smirked and she shook slightly with anger.

"If I recall correctly, _you_ are the one who taunted and teased me for my entire time at school, calling me all sorts of vile names," she hissed. "Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do. _Good day, Mister Malfoy_."

He chuckled and shook his head at her reaction. He knew that he shouldn't tease her, but her reactions were just so _amusing_.

"Farewell, _Miss_ Granger," he said and grabbed his portfolio, turning on his heel and leaving.

Hermione wanted to hit someone. Preferably a particular blonde haired, pureblood prick.

She spent the rest of the day answering the phone with a vicious tone and writing out emails with too much force for her poor little keyboard. When five o'clock came she was all too happy to take her purse and jacket and leave the building quickly. Most afternoons she would take muggle transport home, but today she was pissed off and simply wanted a quick escape.

With a loud crack she apparated from a nearby alleyway and appeared near her house, tucking her wand away hastily. This area was inhabited predominantly by muggles, so care was always taken when she appeared magically. Her heels seemed infuriatingly loud as she walked the fifty metres to her front gate and she was greeted by her cat at the door. Prior to finding the horcruxes with Harry and Ron, she had left Crookshanks at The Burrow and had missed the companionship of an animal terribly, so when she moved to muggle London the first thing she bought was a cat.

Ron hated cats after his experiences with Crookshanks and had never wanted one when they were married, so she had indulged bought a beautiful white cat with a glossy coat. Later, upon bringing the animal home, she had discovered that, like her first cat, this new animal was part kneazle and awfully intelligent.

"Hey there, Altheda," she cooed and the cat let out a soft meow, darting through the open front door before Hermione. Hermione kicked off her heels and dumped her bag, withdrawing her wand from its depths. Her first destination was her bedroom where she slipped out of the uncomfortable dress and pulled on baggy jeans and an oversized sweatshirt, her comfort outfit.

Altheda meowed from the bedroom door, eager for food. Hermione agreed that it was definitely time for dinner and fed the cat quickly. She heated up some leftover pasta bake from the night before for herself and sat at the kitchen table, pulling a thick book towards herself. The book was on the magical customs of the Romans, one hundred years prior to the fall of the western empire and fascinated her deeply. She drank in the knowledge until late in the night when Altheda's constant nudging and meowing made her look at the time and shriek.

It was past midnight and she had to be awake at seven o'clock if she had any hope of getting to work on time. She put her bowl in the dishwasher and changed into her pajamas before slipping into bed and falling deeply asleep.

* * *

Draco was waiting anxiously by the phone.

He had woken at seven o'clock and was unable to return to sleep even though he had no plans for the day. By eight he had exercised, showered, dressed and breakfasted and was waiting for a phone call, _the_ phone call.

He would be lying if he had said he wasn't shocked when he saw Granger sitting behind that desk. Last he heard she was rumoured to be back with her fourth year beau, Viktor Krum. And yet here she was, in muggle London, working as a secretary no less, a secretary for the advertising firm Draco was desperately aching for a position in. He was almost grateful for the opportunity to make things right with her. After all, since the war had ended he was all for making a clean start.

However, she had been so hostile towards him. It was not how he wanted to start their relationship. He hoped that if the position was granted to him, he would be able to make amends and even become _friends_ with Granger. The idea of friendship was still somewhat foreign to Draco, especially when it regarded anyone in the wizarding world, but he was willing to try.

Two more hours went by and finally, at midday, the phone rang. He grabbed it on the first ring and pressed the receiver to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Malfoy?"

"Good afternoon to you too, Granger," he said, wishing she would get to the point.

"I was given the unlucky task of contacting you and informing you of the outcome of your interview yesterday," she sounded strained.

"Yes, and?"

"Unfortunately you have the job."

"Wait, what?" he was dumbfounded. He had the job? _He had the job!_

"Are you deaf, Malfoy? Or just stupid? I _said_ that you have the job. You start tomorrow morning at nine o'clock. Don't be late."

Click.

He had the job. He was going to be working in a muggle advertising firm with none other than _Hermione Granger_. He whooped with glee, punching his fist into the air. He had the job!

* * *

Hermione hung up the phone and groaned.

Her day had been travelling along swimmingly with not a thought about Draco Malfoy until her boss handed her his number and told her to inform him that he had secured the position in their firm. Just her ruddy luck. He was starting work tomorrow and she would be asked to show him around, she was sure.

A notice popped up on her screen to inform her that she had one new email from her boss and she clicked on it hesitantly:

_Miss Granger,_

_Please attend a meeting in my office at two o'clock this afternoon. _

_Don't be late._

_-Harold_

She groaned again. This couldn't be good. Perhaps he was chiding her on her unwelcoming behaviour towards Malfoy. Either way, she had an hour and a half before she had to meet him and five phone calls to make.

Her time slipped away all too quickly for her liking and before she knew it, it was five to two. She stood and straightened out the creases in her black skirt and moved towards the elevator, nervous at what her boss had to say. She knocked on the door at exactly two and waited patiently for him to beckon her into his office.

"Enter!" his voice boomed from within and she timidly entered, standing in front of his desk.

"You asked to see me, Mister Beedle," she smiled and he gestured for her to sit.

"Yes, of course, Miss Granger," he returned her grin and his eyes crinkled slightly. Harold Beedle was a successful thirty year old who was entirely career focused. He was good looking with a crop of dark brown hair and deep blue eyes, easily charming women without trying. He was always kind and courteous towards Hermione, something she appreciated working in a building full of men.

"Miss Granger, I would like to offer you a promotion," he announced, signing off on a piece of paper.

"A promotion, sir?" she frowned. "What would my new position be?"

"Straight to the point. That's one thing I like about you," Harold winked and she smiled. "As you're aware, we've just hired a new employee. Draco Malfoy will be one of our new advertising executives, a prestigious position for one as young as him, and he will need an assistant. You are the obvious choice, Miss Granger."

"W-what? Be _Malfoy_'s assistant?" she was shocked.

"_Mister_ Malfoy. He informed me yesterday that there may be some, ah, animosity between the two of you, and I wish for you to know that I will not tolerate petty rivalries here. It is for this reason that I give you this choice: become his assistant or leave the firm entirely. The choice is yours, Miss Granger. You are excused," Harold shooed her away without another word.

She couldn't help but curse Harold Beedle's name when she returned to her desk. The young man was like Dumbledore, always trying to create unity and other bollocks where it could never exist! She was _not_ going to let Malfoy kick her out of her job! She was here first. She sat down at her desk and angrily typed and email to Beedle, informing him that she would reluctantly take her position as Malfoy's assistant. Just her ruddy luck. This day was turning out to be hell.

* * *

Draco slept soundly and woke at six o'clock in the morning, eager for work. He had been informed that he would be granted an assistant, a first for him in the muggle world. He quickly exercised, going for a jog and doing his usual sit-ups and push-ups before showering and dressing. He was somewhat unsure of what to wear but decided to go a little bit formal, choosing out black suit pants and a dark green button up shirt. He would put on his jacket just before leaving.

He whistled as he poured himself a bowl of cereal and flipped through the newspaper and couldn't contain his excitement much longer – he felt like he was eleven and going to Hogwarts for the first time. At ten to nine he pulled on his jacket, grabbed his portfolio and apparated to work.

* * *

**A/N: I tried to work on my history essay, I really did, but it didn't work so well, which is why I decided to write up a short little chapter for you. If you think that you know where the name for Hermione's cat comes from, mention it in a shiny **_**review**_** because I love them so! The next chapter won't be up until later in the week, I'm sorry. Please review and let me know what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione frowned at the expanse of her wardrobe. She knew she shouldn't _care_ what she looked like in front of _Malfoy_ and yet she found herself unsure of what to wear. It was six o'clock and she had been awake since five, unable to sleep due to what she put down to nerves. She was now breakfasted and showered and standing in her bedroom dressed only in her bra and knickers, curly hair wet and dripping down her back.

She reached out and brushed along the clothes with her fingertips, finally pulling out a pretty dress. It was flattering but not overly sexy – she didn't want Malfoy to get the wrong idea about her. It was a deep red and form-fitting, hugging her in the right places and falling to her knees. She pulled the material on and muttered a spell to dry her hair. There were some things she couldn't be arsed to do the muggle way.

Her cat leapt onto the bed and curled into a ball, watching her with large amber eyes as she applied her makeup and tied her hair into a high bun, pinning back the few curls which refused to be tamed. She only hoped that Malfoy didn't have a naughty secretary fantasy as she could surely fulfil it today.

By eight o'clock she had finished two more cups of tea and read three chapters in her book and she could no longer put off leaving for work. She farewelled her cat and pulled on some black heels before apparating to a safe-zone near the train station that would take her directly to her office. The train ride went by quickly and she found herself standing at the entrance to the building, half an hour prior to when Malfoy would be arriving.

"Ah, Miss Granger! Good morning," Harold Beedle found her waiting outside the front door. "Come along, I'll show you to your new workspace. You'll be on the fifth floor now."

She nodded mutely and followed him into the building where a new secretary was answering the phones, her bleach blonde hair making Hermione blanch. The new girl winked at Beedle who frowned and moved towards the elevators.

"Come along, don't dawdle!" Beedle scolded when they reached the floor and nudged Hermione out of the elevator following shortly behind her. "Your new office is just through there. Go ahead and get settled, Malfoy will be here in twenty minutes.

She nodded again and thanked him, sitting at her new desk and turning on the computer. She fiddled around for a while, opening and closing drawers and such, when the doorway to her office darkened. She stood swiftly.

"My, my Granger, you clean up nicely," Malfoy let out a low whistle and she glared at him. "I see you still have that Gryffindor pride in you."

She looked down at her dress and returned her eyes to his figure. "I see that you still think that horrendous shade of green is attractive," she snapped and he smirked.

"Play nice. I'm a Slytherin through and through, and I'll have you know I look dashing in this shade of green," he winked and she scowled.

"Let's get a few things straight, _Malfoy_," she spat the name out and his eyebrows lifted in amusement. "I'm not your toy and I'm not like those bimbos you shagged when we were at school, so don't think you can boss me around like you own me. I was here first."

"What a fiery temper you have, but I remember that from our schooldays," he smirked at her and she went red, her blood boiling with rage. "I _can_ boss you around, however, because no matter how long you have been here, _I am your boss_. I don't want this to be difficult, Granger, and I was hoping for a fresh start with you, but clearly that isn't going to happen as you seem unable to let my stupidity as a child go. But I will try and make this whole process as painless as possible. I wasn't planning on having you as an assistant, it just happened like that."

Hermione tossed her head back angrily, a few curls spilling out of her bun. She was still standing and Malfoy had moved across the small space until he was on the other side of her desk.

"Fine. Your office is through there. If you need anything just ask, _sir_," she said and he grinned.

"Kinky, Granger."

She growled at his back as he entered his office which was much larger than her own little box. Resuming her seat she hoped to get used to the new area a little bit more until-

"Granger, can you please come in here?"

She groaned and stood, heels clicking as she walked the few metres to Malfoy's doorway.

"What do you want?"

"Tut-tut! That's no way to talk to your boss," he winked and she glared. "What do I have on today?" "A meeting at ten with Beedle to discuss your first task and that's it. He wants you to get used to the place before you have to do anything major," she sighed, leaning against the door. He nodded and began to fiddle with his computer. "Do you even _know_ how to use that?" she asked snidely and he looked up at her with wide eyes.

"Do you mean this big box thing? Is it like a crystal ball or something?" he frowned, jumping slightly when he pressed the on button and the screen came to life. "Is...is it meant to look like that?"

Hermione couldn't help herself. She laughed loudly, oblivious to Malfoy's rolling eyes or expert use of the computer. She felt tears leak from her eyes and finally stopped laughing, leaning against the doorway for support. When she looked up, Malfoy was humming to himself and typing something.

"Wait, you _do_ know how to use it?" she frowned.

"Clearly. You don't go through university in the muggle world without learning how to use a computer," he stated obviously and she flushed.

"Right, of course. How silly of me. I didn't realize that _you_ of all people would have attended a muggle university and therefore know how to use a computer," she turned on her heel and stomped away, leaving his chuckling form behind her. She sat at her desk and crossed her arms, ignoring the emails which were popping up on screen. No more than twenty minutes had elapsed and Malfoy was _already _infuriating her. It wasn't fair! She allowed herself a minute of moping and pouting until another email popped up on screen.

_Miss Granger,_

_Please accompany Draco to his meeting today. As his assistant you will required to accompany him to many of his meetings as well as tend to other work-related needs that he may not have time for._

_Hoping you are well,_

_-Harold Beedle_

She couldn't help the quiet shriek of anger that slipped out, nor the blush that crept onto her cheeks when Malfoy's head poked around the corner.

"Are you quite alright, Granger?"

"Bloody peachy," she said through gritted teeth. "I'm meant to _accompany_ you to your meeting with Beedle. He makes it sound like I'm your slave."

"Slave? Hm, I like that. You make it sound oh-so kinky, Granger," he smirked.

"You're disgusting. I should report you for sexual harassment."

"Is that the best you can threaten me with?"

She got to her feet and crossed to room in two strides. "Have you forgotten when I hit you in third year? I could always remind you."

He put his hands up defensively and backed away. "Now, Granger, violence never solved anything."

"Says you," she muttered. "Come on, let's go and see Beedle."

"Lead the way," Malfoy murmured smoothly, following her out the door.

* * *

Finding out that Granger was his new assistant was a surprise to say the least.

He had struggled to keep his face straight when he saw her in that office wearing that stunning red dress and he wondered if she knew how amazing her breasts looked in it. She had been furious when she first saw him, but judging by the fact that she was in his office, she was aware that he was her boss. He, on the other hand, had no idea that he would even be getting a secretary, much less _Granger_ as his secretary. And what a delightfully _naughty_ secretary she looked. He wondered if she was aware how utterly tempting she appeared to him and to any other hot-blooded, straight male in the vicinity.

Though he had been surprised to see her, he knew that it would be entertaining to work so closely with the fiery Gryffindor. He enjoyed baiting her, testing her reactions. She was one of the few people he felt on par with when they battled verbally, and the challenge was invigorating. She was one of those few women who didn't bend beneath his presence and he was grateful. At least she had some dignity. And an amazing arse. Did she realized that when she walked her hips moved so wonderfully, and from behind he had a glorious view of that arse.

"Malfoy, stop staring," she bit out and he chuckled.

"Honestly, Granger, do you have eyes in the back of your head?"

"No, but working in a building full of dirty old men helps you recognize the feeling of someone checking out your butt. Are you _trying_ to be reported for sexual harassment?"

"Of course not. Besides, I wasn't staring. I was ensuring that your dress was the required length so as to not distract other worker or be deemed..._inappropriate_," he chose his words carefully, dragging out the last word in a long drawl.

"You're so full of shit," she muttered and he raised a brow, speeding up so they walked side-by-side.

"Language, Granger. Remember, we're in a public place. You might offend someone," he smirked and she scowled and sped up again.

She raised her hand and knocked on Beedle's door, entering when she heard his call of assent. Draco followed and sat in the seats his new boss gestured to, smiling slightly.

"Ah, great to see you again, Draco! Likewise, Miss Granger," the boss greeted the two of them, shaking Draco's hand warmly and winking towards Hermione who blushed.

"The same to you, sir," Draco's voice was smooth and from the corner of his eye he saw Granger scowl again.

"Please, call me Harold. Now, we've recently been contacted by a new restaurant which is opening up nearby, and they're willing to pay huge sums of money if we can come up with a design to advertise their restaurant that is up to their standards. I have a folder here with all of their requirements, and I expect a first draft into me by Wednesday. Any questions?" Beedle looked at Draco who shook his head.

"What exactly am I required to do as Malfoy's assistant?" Hermione asked, leaning forward slightly in her seat. Draco didn't miss Beedle's eyes darting to her cleavage and he stifled a chuckle.

"You will be expected to aid Draco in any work related endeavours which he does not have the time to complete, and you will also need to tend to his other needs. This may include getting him lunch whilst he is busy working on projects and designs. You will run errands for him as well, but most of the time you will simply spend in your office answering Draco's emails and such. Is that all you wish to know?" Beedle asked. Granger nodded. "In that case, I have one more thing to ask of both of you. Draco informed me that you attended a boarding school together and, as a result, were schoolyard enemies to a degree. Is this correct?"

"Yes, sir," she muttered, eyes lowered.

"I want you two to get this out of your system, because it will _not_ affect your work whilst you are here. Go and have a screaming match and get it all out in the open. Do you understand?" Both nodded and Beedle's face broke out into a wide smile. "Excellent, excellent! Now off to work, the both of you," he dismissed them and waved them from his office.

Draco led the way, Granger struggling to keep up with his long strides as they headed back to their own offices. He knew Granger would take Beedle's advice literally, and he hoped that she could only restrain herself from starting the screaming match until they reached their offices, where hopefully they could do it in somewhat privacy. He rounded the corner into their conjoined offices and went to sit behind his desk, awaiting his assistant's arrival. He didn't have to wait long before Granger joined him in his office, holding her bag. He hoped she wouldn't hit him with the bag, or hit him full stop.

She packed a serious punch.

* * *

Hermione pulled her wand from her bag and cast a silent _Muffilato_ around the room before flicking her wand once more so the blinds closed with a bang. Malfoy looked surprised at her actions but said nothing, instead placing his feet on his desk and leaning back in his chair.

"So, Granger, how do you propose we begin?" he drawled from his position on the chair.

"I don't quite know, _Malfoy_. How do you suggest we begin?"

"Well I have no problem with you being my assistant, so I suppose all the animosity in this _partnership_ is going to come from you. Why is it you hate me ever so much?" he smirked. She wanted to slap that silly smirk from his face.

"I'm not sure, actually. Maybe it's because you teased and taunted me for my entire school life. You treated me like I was the dirt beneath your feet, called me 'mudblood' and any number of other vile names you could think up. You made me feel like I was worthless, and your actions seemed to reflect that. For Merlin's sake, you watched and did _nothing_ whilst your psychopathic bitch of an aunt tortured me. She cast the Cruciatus curse on me so many times that I felt the skin was being peeled from my bones, like my entire body was on fire. You stood there and did _nothing_ whilst she cut my throat!" she was hysterical by the end of her rant, and she was pointing her wand at Malfoy's chest.

"Are you finished?" he asked coolly and she felt another wave of angry tears roll down her cheeks. Her wand prodded against his green shirt and he hissed when a spark flew out the tip and singed the clothing, burning a tiny hole. "Lower your wand, Granger, or you'll do something you'll regret," he advised but she didn't move.

"Fuck you, Malfoy," she growled and he raised a brow at her language. "I quit. Go and get that blonde bimbo downstairs to be your assistant, Merlin knows she'd be more willing to _please_ you than I ever would be."

**A/N: Surprised? Let me know in a shiny review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: A huge thank you to all of my wonderful reviewers! You're the reason I'm still writing this. Without you guys I would have given up before I even began.**

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* * *

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Hermione was sulking. Thanks to Draco _sodding_ Malfoy she now was unemployed, bored and lonely. She had been feeling this way for two weeks, but until now she hadn't let it get her down. She was seated on the armchair in her lounge room, legs crossed and a heavy tome open on her lap. Her eyes scanned the page wearily, attention waning as the author of the book turned to the Centaur Riots of Surrey in 1793. She rubbed her tired eyes and closed the book with a soft thud, waking Altheda who mewed at her owner.

"Sorry, baby," Hermione sighed, stretching out her legs which tingled painfully. She had read countless books in her two weeks of unemployment, and though she _was_ Hermione Granger who adored reading, sometimes it got a little bit too much for her. She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand and groaned.

Since digging up the memories of her torture at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange in order to prove a point to Malfoy, her dreams had turned to nightmares as she relived the excruciating pain and terror in her sleep. She would wake at all hours of the night drenched in a cold sweat as her body tingled, reminiscent of the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse. The scars left by her battles with Death Eaters had become more visible to herself and she had begun to shy away from mirrors to avoid seeing the pale lines that scarred her neck.

Seeing Malfoy had awoken her nightmares, her deepest fears, and she hated him more than ever for it. She had told Harry that she had quit her job but left out the part about Malfoy. Though he was no longer a boy, the schoolyard rivalry still remained between him and Malfoy though they had not seen each other since a charity ball one year after the war had been won. Harry had told her to visit whenever she wished and that Ginny wanted to see her again. Hermione had been putting it off, telling her she could just use books to distract her, but being in this house for two weeks straight was slowly driving her crazy.

It was midday so Ginny was bound to be awake. Hermione changed quickly, tugging on black jeans and a blue shirt and slipping her feet into a pair of flats. Her hair was already pulled back into a bun so she could read without the irritating little curls falling in her face.

"Mummy's just going to visit Harry and Ginny. Okay, baby?" she cooed to Altheda who looked at her like she was insane. "Oh Merlin, I'm talking to a cat," she groaned and straightened up, scratching her cat's ears once more.

"12 Grimmauld Place!" she cried out with her head in the fireplace. The back of the fireplace turned into the kitchen of the old Order of the Phoenix headquarters and she could hear Ginny talking childishly to someone. "Ginny!"

"Hermione?" the redhead called, unsure of where the voice was coming from.

"In the fireplace, Gin. Mind if I pop around?"

"Not at all! I'll put some tea on," Ginny smiled at Hermione who grinned back and withdrew herself from the fireplace entirely before stepping through once more. She was immediately engulfed in a hug from Ginny who frowned when she saw her face.

"Hermione, what's wrong. You look terrible," Ginny questioned, but she was distracted by a gurgle from the other side of the room. Hermione turned to the source of the noise as well and shrieked a little bit. Ginny was lifting a five-month old baby from a crib which leant up against the wall.

"James," Hermione said breathily and Ginny smiled, carrying the child over. James had a soft crop of inky black hair, chubby arms and dark brown eyes. "He's grown so big since I last saw him."

This was very true. The last time Hermione had seen the baby was just after his birth. He had been tiny and wrapped in a soft blue blanket. She had only held him briefly before he had begun to cry at which point she had deposited the infant into Harry's arms and hurried out. She wasn't cut-out for motherhood, and yet she had still felt a pang of jealousy at the overjoyed faces of Harry and Ginny.

"He certainly is getting big. Anyway, don't change the subject. What's wrong?" Ginny asked again, sitting James on her lap.

"Nothing, Gin. I'm just tired. I haven't been sleeping well lately," she sighed, rubbing her eyes. "And I'm bored out of my mind."

"You need a new job, Miss Granger. Why don't you come back to the wizarding world? Plenty of people would jump at the chance to hire you," Ginny suggested.

"I don't know. I've been gone for a while and there are rumours still floating around about me. I wouldn't mind working at the Ministry. But the muggle world is my home now. I'm so used to doing everything the muggle way that I don't know if I could adjust to doing them magically anymore," Hermione said and Ginny nodded sympathetically.

"Just take your time to decide, Hermione. You'll choose the right path, I'm sure," Ginny smiled.

* * *

Draco rubbed his temples, willing his pounding headache to disappear.

The blonde secretary who had replaced Granger had now been promoted to his assistant, and she was absolutely infuriating. When she wasn't clogging up the line with personal calls, she was misplacing the files he needed, and when she wasn't misplacing the files he needed, she was forgetting to send important emails and pencil in appointments.

He had already reprimanded her numerous times for her constant use of the office line for personal calls, but she _insisted_ that she simply had to take this or that call from this or that friend. He drew the line when he overheard her talking to her friend about different shades of pink nail polish. He had stormed from his office where he was working on a design for a male clothing store and snatched the phone from the blonde bimbo, losing his cool with the woman on the other end of the line before slamming the phone down.

His secretary, Abbey, had burst into tears at his outburst and had not done any work for the remainder of the day. Since then she made a point of having loud conversations with prospective clients, just so Draco knew that she was working. She was currently near yelling point with a client and had been for the last five minutes, only fuelling his headache. He just wished he could have a competent secretary who didn't absolutely loathe him.

This new job was turning out to be more of a curse than a blessing.

* * *

Hermione arrived home to a hungry cat and her phone ringing loudly. She cursed as she tripped out of the fireplace, soot falling across the pale floorboards. She snatched the phone off the hook, answering it a little breathlessly.

"Hello?"

"Miss Granger? It's Harold, Harold Beedle," said a familiar voice and she smiled.

"Mister Beedle, it's nice to talk to you again," she said, flicking her wand to clear up the ash on the ground as Altheda wound her way between her legs. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Please, call me Harold. I'm in no position of authority over you anymore, so shall we place the formalities aside, Hermione?"

"Of course, Harold. Now, what was it you were calling me about?" she curled herself into a ball on the couch, awaiting his response.

"Now, I know it is late notice, but I was wondering, would you like to join me for dinner this evening? I have a proposition for you."

"Oh?" she frowned. It was indeed late notice, the time being half past five. She had been planning a quiet night alone with her cat, but she _supposed_ she could go out. "Yes, that sounds lovely. When and where?"

They exchanged the rest of the details and hung up with hasty farewells, for they would be meeting in just over an hour. Hermione sighed and drifted towards the bedroom to prepare for the evening.

* * *

"Abbey, can you _please_ come in here?" Draco called in a strained voice. It was past six o'clock and he was meant to be at Malfoy Manor in half an hour for dinner with his parents.

"Of course, _Draco_!" she purred out his name and he shuddered. This girl was far too similar to Astoria. She sat across from him and smiled broadly. He repressed a shiver.

"I asked for a file two hours ago and you still haven't given it to me. I have to leave in fifteen minutes and if I don't have that file by the time I go then I'm screwed for this advertisement. Honestly, I thought that when I took you on as my assistant you'd improve with time, but I just haven't seen any improvement. If you cannot get me that file in the next fifteen minutes, then I'm afraid I'm going to have to let you go," he frowned, leaning his elbows against the desk.

"_Draco_, I'm sure we can figure _something_ out," she cried, crocodile tears shining in her eyes, but Draco could feel a hand inching up his thigh. Honestly, what was wrong with this girl?

"Abbey, stop. Go and find me the file. If you can't find it, nothing is going to help you salvage this job. Go. Now!" he barked and she jumped up, running from the room in her stiletto heels. He sighed and buried his face in his hands. He sat like that for ten minutes before Abbey returned, breathless and, by the looks of it, fileless.

"I'm sorry, sir! There are just so many files down there, I couldn't find it anywhere," she simpered.

"Get out," he growled quietly, but the woman didn't move. "Get the fuck out of my office. NOW!"

Abbey shrieked at his outburst and ran from the room, her office door slamming behind her. He swore loudly, smacking his hand against the desk with a loud slap. In all honesty he could just go to the filing room and summon the file, and that's exactly what he did, but he didn't have time for these frivolities! Once he had secured the file he apparated back to his house and changed quickly into some dark black robes with emerald green trim, sliding his class ring onto his finger.

Draco evaluated his appearance once more before disapparating and arriving at the beginning of the driveway to Malfoy Manor. The gates opened for him when he approached, and the drive seemed to go on forever. He came across three white peacocks as he walked, finally reaching the front doors of the building which also opened for him. Upon stepping into the cold entrance hall, he was immediately engulfed in a hug.

"Mother, I can't breathe," he wheezed out, and Narcissa Malfoy released her son, stepping back gracefully as though she had not just smothered him a moment prior. Narcissa had grown even more elegant with age, and time had treated her well. She was still relatively young, her skin only marred slightly by one or two wrinkles. Her hair still shone, the blonde locks hanging midway down her back. She was dressed in splendid dark blue robes and was smiling widely at her son.

Within seconds she was joined by Lucius who wrapped an arm around his wife and extended a hand for Draco to shake. The younger wizard did so, smiling slightly at his father who gave a curt nod. Time had not treated Lucius as well as it had done his wife. The elder Malfoy's hairline had receded and his face was even more lined. He looked old, there was no other way to describe it.

"Shall we move to the dining room?" Narcissa offered, taking charge and leading her husband and son towards the large room that was occupied by a long table. The witch flicked her wand and the table shrunk itself considerably. Lucius seated himself at the head of the table, Draco to his left, Narcissa to his right, and the first course appeared on the golden plates that had been set out before them.

They ate in a comfortable silence until the third course appeared before them.

"Draco, has anything of interest occurred at that muggle firm you work for?" Narcissa asked, slicing daintily into a small piece of chicken.

"I didn't realize that you were interested in my work," Draco frowned and sipped at his elf-made wine before continuing. "No, nothing of particular interest. I had to let go of my secretary today. She was utterly awful, I don't even know how she got the job in the first place."

"She was a muggle?" Lucius spoke up for the first time since Draco's arrival.

"Of course, Father. I work in a _muggle_ advertising firm. I'm the only one with magical blood employed there," Draco explained, adding 'now' in his head. He pushed away his plate of hardly touched chicken and waited for his glass to magically refill itself.

The family lapsed into silence once more, finishing up their meal with a sumptuous chocolate mousse.

"Let's move to the parlour. Draco, your father has something to tell you," Narcissa said as the plates disappeared for the final time. She rose with elegance and gestured for the men to follow her through the archway and into the parlour.

This room was Narcissa's favourite. It had French crafted doors which opened out onto the garden which she so lovingly tended to, and in the evening the garden was lit up by fairies who resided in the rose bushes outside. The room itself was decorated lavishly, like the rest of the house, though Narcissa was allowed free reign over redecorating whenever she pleased. At this time it was decorated in shades of deep red and warm browns with a few golden accents here and there, far too Gryffindor for Lucius' taste, but he had no say in the matter.

"Shall we sit? An elf will bring tea in a moment," Narcissa smiled, sweeping over to a delicately crafted lounge chair. She sat like a queen on her throne, nodding at the men to follow her lead. "Now Lucius, what did you have to say to our son?"

"Draco, there will be a Ministry ball held in two weeks, and you have been invited by the Minister himself," Lucius said curtly, sipping from a cup of tea that had appeared on the low coffee table.

"But _Father_," Draco whined, sounding much like his eleven year old self, "you _know_ I hate those functions! They're so dreadfully tedious."

"There is no room for discussion, Draco," Lucius snapped, returning his tea to the table. "You will attend, and you will find a suitable date to accompany you. We have only just rebuilt our prestige which was lost with the war, and I will not have you lose it all again!"

Draco crossed his arms and stuck his nose into the air, knowing the battle was lost.

"Darling, please. It won't be _too_ awful, I'm sure. If you would like, I can find you a date," Narcissa offered but Draco shook his head vehemently.

"Mother! Last time you were involved in my personal affairs I ended up married to _Astoria_!" Draco cried, and Narcissa withdrew her offer immediately.

"Fine, but you will be expected to bring a partner. And Merlin help me if it's a muggle," Lucius snarled, returning to his tea.

**

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A/N: This was up sooner than I had planned, but I hope you don't mind. I'm aware that Draco seems very childish in this chapter, but I felt that he somewhat relapsed into a more childlike person when he was around his mother. Anywho, please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione took one last deep breath and assessed her appearance in the mirror.

Her wizarding attire looked strange, and indeed she owned far less of it than Muggle clothing. Her robes were a deep red, similar to the Gryffindor red she adored, and she found herself appreciating the simplicity of dressing like a witch again. She knew she couldn't put off her reappearance in the wizarding world off forever, and her talk with Ginny had reminded her of all the things she missed.

When she had met Harold Beedle for dinner, he had proposed she came back to work at the advertising company, a better job and higher wages. She had thought on it throughout the entire meal, but, much to his dissatisfaction, she politely declined. Though she had enjoyed her work somewhat, she missed being challenged, and she still thirsted for knowledge. Plus, having to work in the vicinity of Malfoy repulsed her somewhat.

Hermione straightened her robes once more and pulled on a black travelling cloak before apparating to The Leaky Cauldron. She had set up an interview with the head librarian at a large public library in Diagon Alley. She had always loved being surrounded by books in her school days, and that feeling hadn't changed.

Thankfully no one spared her a glance when she arrived, no one even batting an eyelid at the loud _crack_ of her arrival. She hurried through to the brick wall where she tapped the appropriate bricks before stepping into the bustling hub of Diagon Alley.

Since the end of the Second Wizarding War, Diagon Alley had boomed. Many of the shops which had been put out of business during Voldemort's reign had reopened, bigger and better than before. Many new shops had also popped up, and plenty of young entrepreneurs had opened up their own businesses. There were now several new restaurants, a school for young witches and wizards who weren't old enough for Hogwarts, and even the library to which Hermione was travelling was a new build. Diagon Alley was like a town inside of London.

Keeping her head down, Hermione managed to avoid the gazes of early shoppers. She was grateful her prospective employer scheduled a very early interview for her, or else the Alley would be bustling with shoppers and she would never be able to remain unseen.

The Wizarding Library loomed in front of her. The building was large and impressive, similar to the size of Gringotts from the outside, with large marble pillars and fancy decorations. She climbed the stairs to the large wooden doors hastily, not wishing to be late. The doors opened at her arrival and she slipped inside, taking yet another deep breath.

"Ah, Miss Granger. Right on time," said a quiet voice and Hermione jumped slightly. "I'm sorry, did I frighten you?"

"No, not at all," Hermione collected herself quickly and appraised the woman she was now speaking to. She was shorter than Hermione with a clean cut black bob, small brown eyes and a slightly upturned nose.

"I'm afraid I have a habit of being far too quiet sometimes. I suppose it just happens when you work in a library," the woman smiled, and suddenly she seemed much more approachable and friendly. "I'm Lucinda Whisp, head librarian here. Welcome back to London, by the way," Lucinda began to lead Hermione towards her office.

"Welcome back?" Hermione frowned, keeping pace with Lucinda.

"Well yes. I'm not one to read the tabloids often, but it's been flying about that _you've_ been in Bulgaria with none other than _Viktor Krum_ since your disappearance!"

"That's news to me," Hermione muttered, entering Lucinda's office and seating herself in a cushy chair which Lucinda gestured to.

"Oh, really? That'll show you not to believe everything that Lavender Brown writes. She's turning into a new Rita Skeeter," Lucinda frowned and sat down, pulling out Hermione's file.

"Lavender Brown? _She _ writes for The Daily Prophet?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Indeed. She's the gossip columnist. I tend to stray away from her writing though. It's all utter drivel most of the time. _The Quibbler_ however, now _that_ is an excellent source of information apart from the mentions of Olipag Groonars, whatever they may be," Lucinda was skimming over the file, nodding appreciatively. "Now, Miss Granger, looking at your file it is clear that you're more than accomplished to begin working here. You retook your N.E.W.T exams I see?"

"Yes, after the end of the war I returned to Hogwarts to repeat my final year and take my exams."

"And pass them with flying colours, I might add! Now, onto the nitty gritty aspect of it all," Lucinda said, and Hermione couldn't help but smile as they delved further into the job.

* * *

Draco groaned and put his head on the desk.

Beedle was not at all impressed at how he had lost two secretaries within three weeks and had refused to give Draco another, meaning Draco was forced to do the work of two people. It was really taking a toll on him, and he was really beginning to feel the effects of it all. He had a pounding headache and was behind on his design for advertising a cookware range. Beedle had been acting noticeably cooler towards him since Hermione's resignation which wasn't exactly helping him settle into the office. Since his explosion at Abbey had been heard throughout his office floor, many of his co-workers chose to stay away from him for fear his explosive temper would get the better of him when they were around.

All of this made Draco's employment a very lonely job and quite frankly, he was sick of it. After only three weeks of the job he wanted out.

* * *

"Thank you so much, Lucinda," Hermione beamed, shaking Lucinda's hand eagerly.

"Not a problem, dear. You start tomorrow at eight o'clock sharp. I look forward to working with you, Miss Granger," the shorter witch said, walking Hermione to the front doors of the library.

Almost two hours had passed since Hermione had first walked into the old building and the two of them had gotten sidetracked as they talked about all Hermione had missed in the wizarding world and family connections. Much to Hermione's disbelief, Lucinda was in fact the niece of Irma Pince, the librarian at Hogwarts.

The two women farewelled each other and Hermione stepped back out into Diagon Alley, forgetting that it was ten o'clock in the morning and that the district would be swarming with shoppers. She bustled along through the crowd, needing to get some new robes for work. A Gladrags branch had opened up, contesting Madam Malkin's store, and following this several new clothing stores had also popped up. One hopeful young Muggleborn had even opened a store to sell Muggle clothing.

Hermione managed to find Madam Malkin's store, amongst the shoppers, but out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of red that she would recognize anywhere, followed by the furious clicking of cameras.

Ron was here.

She made a move to duck into the clothing store undetected, but she had already been seen by her ex-husband.

"Hermione? Hermione!"

She cursed herself for leaving her signature curly hair down and recognizable, and she felt her upper arm be seized by someone.

"Oh, Ron, hey," she smiled weakly up at him, and the cameras flashed.

"Hermione, since when were you back?" he asked, loudly enough for the press to hear. Typical Ron. He had always loved attention.

"Oh, well, today is really only my first day back. I was just getting used to everything again," she said quietly, shrugging out of his grasp. She noticed a pretty blonde with a swollen stomach holding hands tightly with Ron. "Introductions are in order, Ronald," Hermione murmured and Ron grinned.

"How could I forget? Hermione, this is my fiancée, Marietta," he smiled, squeezing Marietta's hand.

"Marietta Edgecomb?" Hermione held out her hand for the blonde to shake, and Marietta nodded. "You were in the year above us at Hogwarts, weren't you?"

"Yes, I was friends with Cho. Still am, actually. Then there was that nasty incident in sixth year..." Marietta frowned, withdrawing her hand from Hermione's grasp and placing it on her stomach. She was no doubt remembering the incident which caused the word "_SNEAK" _to be written across her face in pimples.

"But we're all past that now, clearly. And, we're having a baby!" Ron announced enthusiastically, his smile broadening as he waved at the press. "Anyway, we must be off. We're going to buy some stuff for our little one. It was great to see you, 'Mione."

Hermione cringed at the nickname and waved, wishing she could just slip back into the crowd, but that was impossible now. The press moved as one to get closer to her, and she stumbled back slightly.

"Miss Granger, are you pregnant with Viktor Krum's child?"

"Were you seeing Krum whilst you were married to Ron Weasley?"

"Where have you been hiding out whilst you were not in the wizarding world?"

"Are the rumours that you developed a serious case of Dragon Pox true?"

"Hermione Granger, are you having an affair with Ronald Weasley?"

Hermione laughed out loud at this last question, shaking her head and slipping into the store which was far too small for all of the reporters to fit into. At the tinkle of the bell above the door, an elderly witch with grey hair and sparkling blue eyes appeared, smiling widely at Hermione.

"Ah, Miss Granger! It has been far too long. Come along right this way and I'll get you measured up in no time!" Madam Malkin bustled over, leading Hermione towards the back of the store where she was then placed upon a pedestal and measured. The other witch hurried around, finding robes in all different colours and shades for Hermione to try on until finally she could hardly move with the number of clothes she was holding.

After another forty-five minutes Hermione left the shop through the back door, carting around several bulky packages holding no less than seven new pairs of robes for normal everyday wear and three new pairs of dress robes which the old seamstress had insisted she buy. Hermione was grateful to the old woman for letting her leave the back way, skilfully avoiding the reporters who still hovered out front.

With a quick wave of her wand and a turn on the spot, Hermione disapparated with a loud _pop_.

* * *

Draco nearly spat out his morning coffee when he saw the article in The Daily Prophet.

_War Hero Returns!_

_It has been months since anyone has even heard from Hermione Granger, war hero and ex-wife of Ronald Weasley, yet the witch was seen yesterday in Diagon Alley_, writes Lavender Brown. _Hermione Granger was seen exiting the Diagon Alley Library dressed in robes of red before running into her ex-husband Ronald Weasley who was accompanied by his fiancée. Hermione refused to answer any questions asked by reporters, but neither confirmed nor denied rumours regarding her relationship with Viktor Krum, former Seeker of the Bulgarian Quidditch team. The young witch then disappeared into _Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_, not reappearing. It is assumed she left through the back entrance._

_Hermione Granger was seen conversing with Ronald Weasley, with onlookers saying that they were very close, sparking rumours that the two may still be romantically involved despite Weasley's engagement to the pregnant Marietta Edgecomb. The question on everybody's lips is will Hermione Granger remain in London, or will she return to Bulgaria to be with her teenage sweetheart, Viktor Krum?_

Upon reading the last sentence Draco really did spit out his coffee, snorting derisively. Of course _Brown_ of all people would write this! She was only ever after a scandal, and apparently she had found one, though he of all people knew that none of it was true. He folded up the paper, shaking his head, and returned to his breakfast.

* * *

"That complete and utter _cow_! What on earth is she on about? My _relationship_ with Viktor?" Hermione was fuming, pacing back and forth in her kitchen and muttering to herself. She had to leave for work in about five minutes, but at this point all she could do was rage about Lavender Brown and her rubbish article. Honestly, this girl was like Rita Skeeter all over again.

**

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A/N: I'm really sorry. This has taken me far too long to update, and here's my reasons, if you care:**

**I was sick this time last week, and stayed at home and managed to write this chapter in its entirety, though it was **_**completely**_** different. I meant to post it that night but got distracted, and resolved to post it the next evening. When that time came, I was in a horrendous mood and quite stupidly deleted the document and began again, this time with a much angrier take on it all. I re-read it on Saturday morning, was entirely bemused at what I had written, and started again once more. So basically, what you've just read is the third copy of this chapter, and it too is entirely different to both of its predecessors, so I hope you don't mind.**

**Please, please, please review, as they make me update faster, and hopefully I'll have another chapter out in a few days. My work has died down and now I only have two exams to worry about, but they should be fairly simple seeing as, in a very Hermione move of me, I've been studying since the second week of term.**

**Ugh, I'm rambling. Anyway, please review! **


	6. Chapter 6

If there was one activity Draco Abraxas Malfoy absolutely despised, it was shopping.

His mother had always bought his suits and robes for him when he was younger, but now that he was out on his own it was up to him to go shopping, and he loathed it. He particularly hated the fact that he was stuck shopping in Diagon Alley, where whispers followed him and witches manoeuvred their children away when he passed. If he wasn't so busy at work then he might have had the chance to pop over to Paris to buy new dress robes, but as it was, Diagon Alley was as far as he could travel.

It was his lunch hour, and the district was swarming with wizards and witches on their break, so he could move fairly freely without worries that he would be snapped by the press. He was hardly an active participant in the wizarding world anymore, but he _was_ an ex-Death Eater, and the papers still loved some form of gossip about him, or ridiculous speculation that he would be the next Dark Lord. Honestly, it was as though they _wanted_ some evil to come back into the perfect world they had all rebuilt.

He managed to slip into Madam Malkin's store, glad to be out of the crowded street, and moved to the dress robes section. The old witch looked up when he entered, giving him a warm smile before returning to her book behind the counter. He ran his fingers carelessly along the male dress robes, testing the quality of fabric. Honestly, as long as he didn't look like Weasley at the Yule Ball, he would be content with his robes. He heard the tinkle of the shop's bell and greetings pass between Madam Malkin and the newcomer and he froze.

He knew that voice.

He could hear the approaching sound of heels on the wooden floorboards, and had the childish urge to hide somewhere, simply to observe the woman who had just entered the store. Damn Madam Malkin grouping the dress robes for both sexes together! The sound of _Her_ approach grew closer as did his urge, but he relented, choosing to politely ignore _Her_ instead. The woman was humming something softly under her breath, the pleasant melody growing louder as she closed in on the back corner of the store.

With his head bowed he feigned a great interest in some navy blue dress robes, nodding thoughtfully as his hand glided over the fabric. The heels stopped, and he couldn't suppress the urge to look.

Granger stood with her back to him, apparently somehow not noticing his hunched over figure. She brushed her hands along the delicate dresses, murmuring something about colours beneath her breath. Her hair was out and wild, unlike the day he had to work with her, and she was dressed in Muggle attire, looking very decent. She would be out of place amongst the robes of Diagon Alley.

"What are you staring at, Malfoy?" her voice snapped and he realized that he had indeed been staring for nigh on a minute. She turned to face him, hands on her hips, a frown plastered on those _delectable_ pink lips. He allowed one more look at her attire, drinking in the form fitting black dress, unbuttoned blue blazer, and black pumps. She had a blue bag slung over her shoulder, and was glaring at him through the lenses of her glasses. "Well?"

"I was simply admiring the display of dress robes behind you, Granger," he drawled and she rolled her eyes. "I didn't expect to see _you_ here."

"I could say the same about _you_. Are you still working for Harold?" she asked, and he could tell by her tone that she truly didn't care.

"Yes. After all, it's only been a few weeks. That man is in love with you," Draco remarked, turning his back on her to resume perusing the robes.

"He is not. We're just friends, that's all," she was defensive and mimicked his stance.

"Which is _obviously_ why he's hated me ever since you left. He was completely fine with me until you blew up and quit," he stated matter-of-factly, and he could practically hear her roll her eyes.

"You're ridiculous. Anyway, why are you here?"

"I don't need to explain myself to you, but if you must know I'm searching for dress robes for the Ministry's blasted charity ball," he muttered, withdrawing a pair of dark green robes. Very Slytherin.

She made a noise to let him know she had heard his comment but said nothing. The silence they lapsed into was very uncomfortable, and Draco could feel the tension in the air, both magical and something else. The air between them seemed to crackle whenever they moved around each other, and he was all too grateful when she left without a backwards glance. He released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. How strange. He'd just had a conversation with Hermione Granger without a single insult being hurled. Of course, the conversation had been forced and wasn't necessarily pleasant, but at least it was civil.

He shook his head in despair at the dress robes and turned on the spot, apparating directly from the shop.

* * *

Hermione simply couldn't stand the tension any longer. She turned sharply on her heel and hurried from the store, determined not to turn back and face him. He was so goddamn smug! If Madam Malkin wasn't there she was certain she would have hexed him. And then there had been that bizarre aura which had hovered in the air between them. The tension in that little space had been unbearable, and she was pleased to be out under the late August sun.

The weather was warm and her clothing absorbed the heat. She tilted her head up to let the sun wash over her face as she walked the familiar path back to the library. A slight breeze was blowing, ruffling her tangled curls gently as she walked beneath the midday sun. The street was crowded with people doing last minute shopping prior to the younger wizards and witches returning to school, so she managed to remain unnoticed on her return to her workplace.

Three weeks had passed since her reemployment in the wizarding world, and she had slipped easily into a routine, though she still dressed in Muggle clothing, despite her now vast wardrobe of wizarding attire. Her days were spent sorting through piles of books and reorganizing them, and she had never been happier with her choice of work. She spent her evenings at home, pouring over old books she'd never even heard of before her work at the library, or with Harry and Ginny. Occasionally Ron would stop by when she was at Harry's, but the air between them was awkward so the redhead would often leave soon after his arrival.

Truthfully, she didn't blame him for their relationship failing, and she knew he didn't blame her. Their moment of romance during the Battle of Hogwarts had just been a fleeting second of passion, a possible sign that there was still good in the world despite the warring around them. They had gotten together following that because it was what everyone expected, and then they had fallen into such a routine that had been shaken up when she couldn't carry a child. It just was never going to last forever for them. But that didn't mean seeing him, especially now that he was once again engaged and soon to be a father, wasn't awkward.

The library was pleasantly cool when she stepped inside, and she moved back to her desk which was absolutely covered in scraps of parchment, quills, and, of course, books. Not a single part of the dark oak wood was visible beneath the materials she had scattered across the desk, and she nestled herself back in her chair, absorbing herself once more in her work.

The rest of the afternoon went by quickly, and she left at five with a quick farewell to Lucinda who was communicating with her aunt at Hogwarts about loaning books between the two libraries. Hermione was visiting Harry and Ginny again, but this time Molly and Arthur would be attending, along with Bill and Fleur with their little girl, Victoire. Having not seen her ex-in-laws for a few years, she was quite reasonably nervous, and wanted a chance to make herself look much more presentable before greeting them again.

She flooed from the library to her home, disturbing Altheda who stalked out of the room. The cat was not happy with Hermione's return to work and thus lack of attention. Sighing at the disgruntled feline, Hermione moved towards her ensuite bathroom, shedding her work clothes in the process. She let the hot water of the shower relax her, and she realized just how tense her meeting with Malfoy had made her. She stepped from the cubicle twenty minutes later, thoroughly cleansed, and wrapped a fluffy white towel around herself and moving back to her bedroom.

Half an hour later she was dressed in a sleek black dress, a delicate silver necklace hung around her neck, and her feet were enclosed in a pair of dark purple flats. She chose to simply let her curly hair dry naturally from the shower and snatched a silver clutch out of her wardrobe. Altheda mewed loudly at her as she passed, and the witch bent down to kiss her cat on the head and scratch her ears.

"I'll be back later, baby. There's food in your bowl and you can sleep on my bed," Hermione murmured, listening to the contented purring of her pet. As a final touch she put on some pink lipstick, black eyeliner and mascara, and then turned on the spot, feeling the horrible feeling of apparition.

She appeared in the little square just outside Harry and Ginny's house, and she looked around hastily to ensure she hadn't been seen by any Muggles. When she was sure the Statute of Secrecy hadn't been broken by her carelessness, she smoothed out her dress and took a deep breath before walking to the front door of the house. She rapped on the door three times and waited for a moment until the door was pulled open by Harry.

Harry's black hair was still as scruffy as ever, and his emerald eyes twinkled with delight at her arrival. She embraced her oldest friend warmly and allowed him to lead her into the house with a hand on the small of her back.

"Now, don't be mad," Harry began, "but Gin-"

"SURPRISE!"

Hermione struggled to contain a scream as all of her old friends from the wizarding world called out. They were all gathered in the living room of the old house, which had been magically expanded by the looks of it, and they were all wearing broad smiles. From where she was standing she could see Luna, with her husband Rolf Scamander, Neville, holding hands with his wife Hannah Abbot, Dean Thomas with his arm around Pavarti Patil, Seamus Finnegan with Padma Patil, and all of the Weasley family. Ginny broke free of the crowd first, holding a gurgling James, and gave Hermione a one armed hug.

"Gin, what is all of this?" the brunette witch asked, baffled as she looked around at all of the smiling faces in the room.

"Well, Mum thought that seeing as you haven't seen any of your old friends since you left, we could throw you a bit of a surprise party! So we made a few calls, and here everyone is. I hope you don't mind," Ginny smiled, and Hermione just beamed back at her.

"Have I ever told you that you're incredible?"

"Not often enough," Ginny pouted jokingly. "Go on, go and say hello to everyone!"

Hermione made her way over to Neville first, who was conversing with Luna about a particular type of rare magical flower that sung at the full moon. The two broke apart when Hermione reached them, each embracing her in turn. They caught up quickly, talking for about fifteen minutes before Hermione moved on to mingle with others.

"Ah, my fiery little Gryffindor! My git of a brother hasn't been giving you any trouble, has he?" George Weasley asked, slinging an arm over her shoulder. He was holding hands with Angelina Johnson, whom he had married following the war, and she was looking fondly at their son who played with his cousin, Victoire Weasley.

"George! I haven't seen you in ages," Hermione grinned and he winked at her. "I haven't seen Ron since Lavender Brown published that ghastly article in the paper a few weeks ago. She's been hounding me with owls ever since. How are you? How's Fred?"

"We're all good. Fred's as much of a troublemaker as I was when I was his age, and he's been getting along really well with Victoire. It's good to know that he'll always have a good group of cousins as friends," George grinned. Hermione felt a pang of sadness at the memory of his twin, and swallowed thickly to get rid of the lump that formed in her throat.

She farewelled the surviving twin, promising they would catch up later, and moved over to where Bill and Fleur were. Fleur was glowing with her second pregnancy, and once again her beauty seemed to radiate through onto others, entirely hiding Bill's scars from his altercation with Fenrir Greyback. Fleur swooped over and kissed Hermione's cheeks quickly and Bill gave her a quick hug.

Following Hermione's miscarriages, Fleur had been quite comforting towards the younger witch, and though the two weren't quite _friends_, they did have a bond.

"Fleur, you look wonderful," Hermione smiled, and indeed the part-Veela did. She was draped in an elegant light blue dress, the front of which ballooned out with her enlarged stomach. The trio chattered for a while before Hermione moved on once more. She hadn't exactly had a chance to have a heart to heart with anyone, but the general catch-ups had been nice. She was heading towards the kitchen of Grimmauld Place to grab a drink when she felt someone seize her hand.

"Well, Miss Hermione, you are looking absolutely delectable this evening," said a deep voice, and she whirled around to face Charlie Weasley who was giving her a lopsided grin.

"Charlie!" she all but jumped into his arms and he chuckled, wrapping his own muscular arms around her frame.

Following the war and prior to her marriage to Ron, Hermione had grown quite close to Charlie. After Fred's death he had remained in Britain for a while longer, and the two got on quite well. Hermione loved the fact that she could have an informed discussion with him about all sorts of things with the atmosphere still relaxed, and if she was being honest, Charlie was one of the people she missed the most when she was living in the Muggle world.

"What are you doing back in England?" she asked when they had separated, walking to the kitchen together where they each grabbed a butterbeer and sat at the table.

"Coming back to visit you, of course! And Kingsley invited me to that Ministry ball, and Ginny is practically forcing me to go," he frowned at the latter part. "I take it you'll be going?"

"I got my invitation yesterday, and I'm expected there, so I'll be there. I just need to find a dress," she grimaced and he laughed.

"I'm sure it won't be _that_ difficult for you to find a dress, Hermione," he pointed out. "You tend to look stunning in anything," he added with a wink and she blushed. "So, all you need is a dress? Who's your date then?"

She suppressed a smile at the hint of jealousy in his tone. "I'm not going with anyone, Charlie. I don't have anyone to go with," she shrugged, and relief flashed across his features.

"Well then, in that case, Miss Granger, would you care to attend the upcoming Ministry Charity Ball with me?" Charlie placed on a posh accent and she couldn't help but laugh. Merlin, she had missed Charlie.

"Why of course, Mister Weasley. It would be my honour," she chuckled and he grinned.

"Excellent! I'll look forward to it. Now, if you don't mind, I need to talk to Luna about an apparent new breed of dragon. Good evening, m'lady," he kissed her hand and winked, leaving a laughing Hermione by herself in the kitchen.

She was soon joined by Harry who sat beside her with a firewhiskey.

"Hey, Hermione. Enjoying the party?" her best friend asked, leaning back in his chair.

"It's brilliant. I owe you and Ginny big time for this," she smiled and he dismissed the compliment with a wave of his hand.

"You seemed to be getting pretty close with Charlie," he joked and she rolled her eyes.

"We're just friends, Harry," she said, ignoring the fact that she was lying a little bit. No matter what she told herself, there was still some delicious sexual tension between her and the older Weasley.

"I know, I'm just teasing. You're so easy to rile up sometimes," he grinned and she couldn't help but smile back. "I better get back to the party. I think dinner will be ready soon. A little bit of a stand-up affair according to Ginny, so you might want to rest your feet for a little bit longer before the food comes out."

Harry left with a wave and Hermione sat for a moment longer before returning to the party. George had put some music on and was twirling Angelina around a makeshift dance floor. Bill had scooped Victoire into his arms and was dancing around with the silvery haired beauty who was laughing loudly as her father moved wildly. Fleur watched on fondly, rubbing her swollen stomach. Luna and Rolf were doing some bizarre dance as well, and Hermione was distinctly reminded of a mating ritual that a certain type of bird went through, something she had seen in a documentary once upon a time.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Hermione heard Ginny call out, and the music cut abruptly. George groaned. "Shut it, George," the young Weasley joked. "Dinner is served!"

Every table was now laden with food and as if on cue, all the males immediately swarmed towards the plates. Hermione hung back, leaning against the wall as she watched her friends, the people who were like her family, all gathered together in the one room, and she realized that she truly was home.

**

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A/N: I'm going through a bit of a rough time at the moment, so I don't know when the next chapter will be out. Hopefully I'll just be able to curl up by myself this weekend and work everything out and work on another chapter, but we'll see.**

**Once again, thank you so much to all of my reviewers. You mean the world to me.**


	7. Chapter 7

Charlie let out a low whistle, causing the blush to rise in Hermione's cheeks.

"You've certainly outdone yourself this time, Hermione," he said, not taking his eyes off her form. She had spent the afternoon preparing herself for the Ministry's ball, and was incredibly proud of her hard work. She had fixed her hair so it sat atop her head with some of her curls cascading down, and had opted for contact lenses instead of glasses. Her dress was the real standout of the affair, however. It had cost her an arm and a leg, but the floor length white gown was perfect. With a slit that reached her upper thigh and a triangular cut out on the side, it was a little bit risqué, yet still very elegant. When she moved she allowed the world a view of bare leg and glittering silver heels.

When she reached Charlie she took his arm and his eyes flashed to the ring she wore on her index finger. The goblin made piece of jewellery would have cost a fortune, but it had been given to Hermione as a gift, following the war. In the shape of a lion's head, the stunning ring was encrusted with diamonds and two emeralds for eyes. She had never really had a chance to wear it, but it went wonderfully with her dress.

"You are looking quite dashing yourself," Hermione complimented her date for the evening, and this was very true. He had cut his shaggy red hair a bit, so it hung attractively around his face, and he was dressed in an impressive pair of very dark red dress robes. "Very Gryffindor," she added as an afterthought and he chuckled.

"Shall we?" he suggested, and she nodded. The air constricted around her and she was pulled through the tube of apparition. She clutched onto Charlie to regain her footing in her impossibly high heels, grateful that he was there to catch her.

The Ministry of Magic's Charity Ball was being held this year in an abandoned Muggle warehouse. The building had been charmed to repel Muggles, much like Hogwarts, and to any outside who was unaware of the event being held inside, it looked like a dingy, despairing building. Charlie and Hermione had apparated just outside the building, not bothering to be cautious as they knew of the charms placed.

Upon entering, they were attacked by flashes of cameras. Hermione suppressed a groan as Lavender Brown came bouncing over in a hideously pink dress, holding out a magical microphone.

"Hermione! How _lovely_ to see you again! Would you mind giving me an interview? The entire world wants to know where you've been!" the irritating blonde witch gave a high pitched giggle, and Hermione arched her brow.

"After that ridiculous article you wrote about me in the paper, Lavender, I don't think I'll be giving you a single word, other than these: butt out. My private life is _private_, and none of your concern," Hermione snapped. She felt Charlie's grip around her shoulders tighten slightly as he guided her through the rest of the flashing cameras until they reached two golden doors.

"Are you ready?" he asked and she nodded, keeping her eyes forward. She smoothed out her dress quickly, took Charlie's arm, and stepped forward. The doors swung open magically and the couple glided in. The designers of the interior had certainly outdone themselves.

The elegant room was high ceilinged, colonial style columns holding up the balcony above. The floors were a dark wood and the walls white. An enormous glittering chandelier hung from the ceiling, the twinkling lights no doubt fairies. There were white lilies on every table, and their delicious scent clung to the air. Various round tables were scattered around the room, each adorned with a light blue table cloth and sparkling crystal plates, silver cutlery gleaming. At the front of the room was a long table, where she would be seated along with Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic, Harry and Ginny, Ron and Mariette (much to her distaste) and other important members of British wizarding society.

Soft music played, though there was no visible band, and Hermione recognized the piece to be Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, a particular favourite of hers. The room was otherwise filled with a low hum of conversation, though much of it ceased when her and Charlie entered. Many of the room's occupants turned to face the golden doors, and a collective gasp had risen from the people who recognized her. Of course, she normally would not create such a stir, but as she had been missing for months and was now resurfacing with a different Weasley brother, tongues were bound to wag.

The first person to save the couple from the awkward confrontation was, quite surprisingly, Narcissa Malfoy. The ever elegant witch appeared beside Hermione, smiling warmly.

Prior to the demise of Hermione's charities, Narcissa had been one of the major donators. She was rich and powerful as she was beautiful, and she wished to restore the Malfoy name's glory. The two had not become friends, merely acquaintances, and Hermione was more than willing to accept her donations. Narcissa had greatly warmed to Hermione after the younger witch testified at her husband's trial, helping him avoid Azkaban at the end of the war.

"Good evening, Lady Malfoy," Hermione said smoothly, holding her hand out politely. Narcissa took it without hesitation.

"Good evening, Miss Granger. I must say you are looking absolutely radiant tonight," the older witch said.

"As do you, Lady Malfoy," Hermione returned the compliment, truly meaning it. Narcissa's black dress was as elegant as she, contrasting beautifully against her milky white skin. She wore a beautifully glittering ring, shaped like a snake with purple diamonds for eyes, and matching earrings and her long blonde hair was twisted into a knot at the top of her head.

"You're far too kind. And who is your handsome date?" Narcissa held her hand out to Charlie, who shook it warmly.

"Lady Malfoy, this is a friend of mine, Charlie Weasley," Hermione introduced the two.

"Charmed," Narcissa smiled lightly. "Now, if you will excuse me, my husband wanted to speak with Kingsley, and I believed he wished me to be present. Perhaps we will catch up later, Miss Granger."

Without another word the older witch departed into the crowds, leaving Hermione and Charlie hovering beside an empty table.

"Care to dance?" Charlie offered, holding out his hand to Hermione who nodded and let him lead her to the dance floor.

* * *

Draco grimaced as the firewhiskey burnt a trail down his throat, but at least the alcohol was making everything a little bit more bearable.

He had ditched his date within five minutes of the ball's beginning, letting the idiotic brunette trail after an Irish Quidditch player, and was now hiding out at the bar. He repelled most people who approached him with a scowl in their direction, but his _darling_ ex-wife, Astoria Greengrass, seemed to be unaffected by this facial feature, and was making a beeline towards him.

"Drakie, you're looking _wonderful_," she purred, placing a hand on his forearm.

"Ah, my walking cliché of an ex-wife," he said coldly, jerking his arm from her grasp. "You're looking as outlandishly horrendous as ever."

She frowned at his words and looked down at her metallic pink dress, but then a bright smile graced her face. "Oh, Drakie, you're so funny!" she giggled and he glared back, but the idiotic woman ignored it. "So, do you miss me?"

"Oh, of course I miss you, _dearest_. How could I not miss your delightful ways of faking pregnancies, or your laugh like a derange hyena? I'm not sure how I've lived without your false nails digging into my arm, nor your beautiful tantrums when I didn't buy you whatever goblin made tiara you wanted," his voice dripped with sarcasm, but the bimbo merely laughed once more.

"I knew you'd miss me, Drakie!" she trilled. Draco ordered another drink. Quickly.

"Salazar's snake, are you _really_ that dense, you imbecilic, pathetic excuse of a witch? _I'm not interested_. Obviously you cannot distinguish sarcasm, but I'm sure even _you_ can understand this next phrase: fuck off," he growled out the last words, and Astoria's beautiful face crumpled. Immediately her eyes filled with tears and she shuffled away, unable to run in her hideous heels.

Draco, feeling no guilt, turned to face the dance floor, where a beautiful witch was dancing with a redheaded partner. The witch glided along the floor, her white dress making her the picture of innocence, but the high slit giving her a sultry look at the same time. Her graceful movements were intoxicating, and he found himself unable to look away from the dancers. He watched with jealousy as the wizard she danced with pulled her close to his chest. He wished he could be dancing with such a gorgeous woman, but he was standing by himself at the bar, downing his seventh firewhiskey.

Damn it all! He was Draco _sodding_ Malfoy! He was smart, famous, good looking, well groomed, and heir to the vast Malfoy fortune, so why in Salazar's name was _he_ of all people sulking whilst everyone else enjoyed himself? On surprisingly steady feet he pushed away from the bar, determined to intercept the dancers and take the witch for himself.

As the song ended he pushed through the crowd and smoothly took the pretty witch from her partner, who backed away in confusion. It wasn't until he had started to dance did he actually look down at her face, at which point he nearly recoiled in shock.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Malfoy?" Granger hissed, trying to pull away.

"Stop fighting. You're making a scene," he recomposed himself quickly, continuing to glide along with the witch who glared up at him.

"I don't care. I was having a perfectly good time with my date until you arrived, so let me go!" she raised her voice ever so slightly, but no one noticed.

"No," he said coolly, instead pulling her flush against him, despite her struggles.

"I'll scream," she threatened.

"No you won't," he rolled his eyes, spinning her but keeping a tight grip on her hand so she could not escape. "So who's your date?"

"None of your business," she retorted childishly, pouting.

"Honestly Granger, and I thought you were mature," he muttered. "Judging by the hair, I'm going to say it's another Weasley. What are you doing, trying to shag your way through the family?"

"You're disgusting," she spat, scowling and turning her head away from Draco. He followed her eyes to her former dance partner who was now doing an awkward shuffle with Luna Scamander, nee Lovegood.

"You look very pretty tonight, by the way," he said in a low voice, but she just ignored him and remained silent for the rest of the dance.

* * *

When the music ceased, Shacklebolt was standing at his seat at the front of the room. He tapped twice on his crystal goblet and the room fell silent.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome. I thank you greatly for your attendance tonight, and I ask if you could now please take your seats. Dinner will be served momentarily," he said in a deep voice, and the crowds dispersed. Granger ran back to her date, clutching his hand like it was a lifeline, and Draco shook his head and turned away.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" Charlie asked her when they took their seats. The ballroom was filled with chatter as people began to eat the first course which had appeared before them.

"Peachy," she muttered, rubbing her temples. "Malfoy gives me a headache."

She felt Charlie place a large, callused hand on her back, rubbing it in soothing circles. As the realization that someone was seating themselves beside her, Hermione sat up straight and threw a grateful smile Charlie's way. He simply took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze in return.

"Charlie? _Mione_?"

Hermione couldn't stop the groan that escaped.

"Good evening, Ronald," she managed to say through gritted teeth.

"Hermione, what are you doing here with my brother?" Ron asked, confused at the turn of events. Marietta was on his other side speaking with Ginny who was eyeing for an escape.

"I'm his date for this evening," she explained, and Ron's face scrunched up.

"Wait, his _date_? As in, date-date?"

"N-," Charlie began, but Hermione interrupted him.

"_Yes_, Ronald, his date-date. I figure that seeing as you've already gotten someone pregnant and are engaged once again, I'm allowed to start dating," she commented dryly, ignoring Charlie's shocked face.

"But he's my _brother_," Ron whined. Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but was interrupted when Kingsley stood up to give his speech.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you for attending tonight. We are now seven years on from the war that nearly destroyed everything we had worked so hard to build, and yet here we stand. In the seven years which have passed, our kind have lived in peace, but there are still people, wizards and witches like ourselves, who are not as fortunate. And so tonight I ask you to open your hearts. Open your hearts to the orphans of the war, open your hearts so we can rebuild our prestigious Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry back to perfection. Open your hearts, so our world can restore its former glory."

The room burst into applause at the end of Kingsley's short speech. Then the first course appeared on everyone's plates and the finest elf-made wine appeared in their crystal goblets, and pleasant conversation broke out throughout the whole room. _Almost_ the whole room.

"He's too old for you," Ron said immediately and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Honestly, Ronald, if you're going to oppose every person I date then at least come up with a new argument," Hermione snapped, looking over the dish that had appeared on the plate before her. The first course was a tuna tartare, and at her first bite Hermione decided the food was sublime.

"I don't need a new argument when the same one is true!" Ron argued, for once ignoring the food in front of him.

"It shouldn't matter to you who I date. I don't care that you're dating Marietta, nor that you fucked her whilst we were still _married_. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to enjoy the rest of my evening with my date, some delicious food and fine wine, so leave me alone, Ronald," Hermione hissed, and angled her body so she was facing Charlie who watched her with a bemused expression.

"That felt good," she admitted, sipping from her goblet. Charlie just laughed.

"Publicly humiliating my brother felt good? Understandable, seeing as he's been a right git since..." he trailed off awkwardly.

"Since my miscarriage, yes," she finished stiffly. "Can we not talk about our past and just act as though we're on a date?"

"Of course," he smiled, relieved. "So, Hermione, what do you do for a living?"

"I work at a wizarding library. What happens to be your occupation?"

"I happen to work with dragons in Romania."

The conversation between the two flowed as easily as the wine until the meal concluded.

* * *

Draco was grateful that there seemed to be an endless supply of wine as the meal went on. After the second course (a small salad with shaved fennel, roasted beets, pinoli, gorgonzola and balsamic dressing) he was tired of the company. For some reason his father had forced the torture of sitting at the high table upon him, and now he was in between his mother and his horrible date, who seemed to have absolutely no manners whatsoever.

"Enjoying yourself, Draco?" Narcissa asked when the third course, duck breast with green peppercorn and orange glaze, appeared on their plates.

"Absolutely, mother," he drawled. "I'm here with a date who doesn't understand that you are meant to enjoy food rather than inhale it, and I've already been accosted by my dear ex-wife."

"Yes, well, I offered to find you a nice date, but you insisted that you were capable of finding your own," Narcissa sniffed and Draco rolled his eyes. "Miss Granger is looking lovely, dear. Why don't you try and _woo_ her."

"Granger?" Draco asked, his voice tinted with disbelief. "_Granger_? Mother, are you feeling alright? You can't possibly mean Hermione Granger." He shook his head, deciding he must have misunderstood.

"I'm feeling fine, Draco, and yes, I do mean Hermione Granger," she said shortly and Draco's mouth fell open. "Do close your mouth, dear. Disbelief is not an attractive face on a Malfoy."

"But _Granger_?" he asked again, earning an impatient sigh from his mother.

"Yes, Hermione Granger. Face it, Draco. She's a beautiful and incredibly talented witch. Marrying her would also restore the Malfoy's name somewhat. I'm going to invite her over for tea on the weekend," Narcissa informed her son, who just sat there in silence.

When the evening's dessert, lavender panna cotta with forest berries, was cleared from everyone's plates, the tables disappeared, and once everyone stood the chairs disappeared, reappearing at the sides of the room. Music began to play and people began to mingle. Draco groaned as his date (was it Sally? Sarah? Susie?) clutched onto his forearm and steered him to the crowds.

* * *

Hermione giggled loudly as Charlie spun her exuberantly around the dance floor. She'd had an awful lot of wine during dinner, and her cheeks were flushed. Most of her curls had fallen from their design, spilling around her face. She had enjoyed the conversations she had been having with the other wizards and witches, but dancing with Charlie was definitely the thing she was enjoying most.

The dragon loving Weasley was quite an able dancer, and no matter how serious the song, he made it fun. The music had now slowed down quite a bit, and the muscled man pulled her flush against his chest. They moved slowly, their movements sensual. She tilted her head up and found Charlie's eyes boring into her own. They were a warm brown, exactly like Ginny's, and there was unmistakable affection in them as he looked at Hermione.

Without thinking she tilted her head even higher up, moving their faces closer. Charlie understood and lowered his face until their lips met softly. Hermione moved her hands until they were clasped behind his neck, effectively deepening the kiss until they were interrupted by a very bright camera flash.

"Hermione Granger has her claws in yet _another_ Weasley. This should be front page news," Lavender Brown said smugly. Hermione reached out to grab the camera from the woman's hands but the nosy reporter had already turned and disapparated.

"Oh, shit," was all Hermione said as she broke apart from Charlie, who still maintained a grip on her hand. The music ended with one final note, and the crowds applauded before dispersing. The evening was over and witches and wizards were milling about, some disapparating straight from the ballroom and others choosing to floo home. "Charlie, I'll owl you. I promise. I just need to go home now," she said hurriedly and her date frowned.

"Are you sure?" he asked and she nodded.

"I'm sorry. Expect my owl though," she smiled and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before apparating home.

* * *

Hermione woke the next morning cursing elf-made wine and vowing never to drink again. She hardly ever drank more than two butterbeers, so the amount of alcohol she had consumed the night before was enormous in comparison. Her head was pounding, but thankfully nausea had evaded her.

With a disgruntled groan she rolled from her warm, comfortable bed and padded to her kitchen, clutching her head. She didn't want to look in the mirror and see the state she was in, clad only in an oversized grey nightshirt with smudged makeup and untameable hair. She could only imagine that she looked like something the cat dragged in. Speaking of cats, Altheda was sitting on the kitchen table, looking delightfully smug.

"Oh, go away," Hermione groaned at the animal who simply purred in response. There was a loud tapping coming from somewhere, and to Hermione it felt like somebody was hitting her over the head with a hammer. "What the hell is that noise?"

Looking around to discover the source of the insistent tapping, she saw a beautiful black owl outside her window, tapping on the pane of glass to be let in. She flicked her wand and the creature soared into the room, dropping a dark blue envelope on the table before flying out immediately. Hermione frowned and put her wand down, choosing to instead pick up the envelope.

_Miss Granger,_

_I do believe that we were not granted the chance to properly reacquaint ourselves yesterday evening, something which I do regret greatly. If it is not too much trouble, I would like you to join me at Malfoy Manor this Saturday for tea. Please arrive promptly at eleven o'clock._

_Sincerely,_

_Narcissa Malfoy_

The script was long and elegant, and was grateful she wasn't required to write a reply as her attendance appeared to be mandatory. Instead, seeing that Lucinda had given her the day off from work, she decided to go back to bed and sleep off her terrible headache.

**

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A/N: Hello again. I've managed to lock myself away from people for a couple of days and write, and so the result is this chapter. It's a long weekend where I am and I have no intentions of leaving my domain, so fingers crossed I'll get another chapter out before Tuesday. Then again, if I don't reach 50 reviews, then there might not ever be a new chapter, hint-hint!**

**Also, if you would like to see pictures of the characters and their clothing in any of the chapters so far, then just check out this link:**

**s770 . photobucket . com / home / Dustmites /**** allalbums**

**Review and you'll get a cookie, some yummy time with Draco, and a new chapter!**


	8. Chapter 8

Draco was ridiculously comfortable.

His bed was warmed by the sun and his sheets were crisp. His apartment was entirely silent, other than the distant whirring of the refrigerator, and he had no intentions of getting up any time soon as it was a Saturday.

He had chosen to ignore all thoughts of the Ministry's ball, as well as the article that had appeared in the newspaper the following day with the rather large picture of Hermione Granger caught in a raunchy embrace with Charlie Weasley. He was also choosing to ignore the fact that his mother wanted him to woo the muggle born, as she put it, and the fact that he was meant to be at the Manor thirty minutes ago to visit his mother.

Instead, he just rolled over and released a wonderfully content sigh.

Following his sigh of happiness, three things happened at once: there was a loud crack that made him release a girlish trill, someone yanked his silk sheets from his body, and Narcissa Malfoy began to shriek at her son.

"Draco Abraxas Malfoy! What do you think you are doing? You were supposed to be at the Manor half an hour ago, and Miss Granger will be arriving in less than ten minutes. I expect you there in five minutes, fully dressed and looking impossibly decent, or so help me Salazar, I will make sure you never walk straight again," Narcissa snapped, waving her wand angrily so the curtains jerked open and Draco was blinded by the light. "Oh, good morning, by the way," she added smartly and disapparated with another loud crack.

Draco groaned at the intrusion of the light and stood, stumbling to the bathroom where he showered in three minutes flat before drying himself and pulling on some black pants and a white button-down shirt. In a grand total of six minutes he was ready and apparating to Malfoy Manor, where he was greeted sternly by his mother.

"You're a minute late," she chastised him and he rolled his eyes.

"Good morning, mother. You look lovely today," he said, hoping his sweet tone and compliment would let her forget his tardiness, though his compliment was true. It was bizarre to see his mother in muggle clothing, but he preferred the fashion to the billowing robes of the wizarding world. The pale tones she wore complimented her greatly.

"Thank you, dear. Now, Miss Granger will be here in approximately four minutes. We shall be outside in the rose garden, so I think you should be going for a leisurely stroll and just happen upon us at half past eleven. Keep in mind this is not up for discussion and you _will_ be going for a leisurely stroll and you _will_ happen upon us," she warned him and he rolled his eyes.

"Yes, mother. Now, I suppose I should start my walk now, as your companion will be here in around thirty seconds," he said and Narcissa nodded furiously, ushering him out.

* * *

Hermione frowned, staring at her wardrobe. She was supposed to be at Malfoy Manor in five minutes, but instead she was sitting cross-legged on the floor dressed only in her underthings, entirely unsure of what one was meant to wear for tea with Lady Narcissa Malfoy. Seeing as she was an elite pureblood witch, Hermione assumed her host would be in traditional wizarding garb, and she questioned whether or not she should do the same, but after flicking through her robes, the young brunette decided she had nothing decent enough to wear.

Now she simply had to decide on something to wear from the mountains of clothes which made up her muggle wardrobe in three minutes, or else risk being late for a meeting with one of England's most esteemed witches. With two minutes left she yanked a red dress from the closet and pulled it on, summoning a pair of black heels to go with it. It was classy and yet not overly formal and she wouldn't overheat in the warm weather.

One minute later she had apparated herself outside the gates of Malfoy Manor and was hurrying up the drive. She passed two white peacocks that looked at her curiously before continuing on their way and she frowned at the oddities the manor seemed to behold. At precisely eleven o'clock she raised her hand and knocked on the front doors which immediately swung open to reveal Lady Malfoy who was smiling.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," the older witch said pleasantly, and Hermione restrained a shiver. This whole situation was quite surreal, and though Narcissa had not been openly rude to her since the ending of the war, the pleasantries were still strange.

"Lady Malfoy, thank you for inviting me to your home," Hermione accepted Narcissa's outstretched hand.

"Please call me Narcissa. Lady Malfoy is far too formal for the occasion," Narcissa said, turning and walking from the front door which had swung shut upon Hermione's entrance. Hermione hurried to keep pace with the blonde witch, gaping at her muggle attire. It wasn't everyday that you saw a proud and elite pureblood witch, possibly the richest witch in Britain, wearing _muggle_ clothing. Of course, they seemed designer. Hermione stifled a chuckle at the thought of the older witch in a pair of sweatpants and a jumper.

"We shall be having tea in the gardens. It's such a lovely time of year and my roses are doing splendidly. A little bit of magical fertilizer goes a long way," Narcissa said pointedly and Hermione nodded politely, following the witch through a posh sitting room and out large French doors until they reached the sweeping grounds.

"It's beautiful," Hermione breathed and Narcissa flashed her a dazzling smile.

"Thank you. My garden is where I devote most of my time. I was never one for indoor life," Narcissa admitted as they entered the rose garden where a quaint table was set for two people. Narcissa sat and waved Hermione to do the same, and once Hermione was seated a tray popped up on the table, laden with a large teapot, two little teacups and a plate of delicate pastries and sweets. "Tea?" Narcissa offered and Hermione nodded. Without lifting a finger there was tea in Hermione's cup and the young witch pursed her lips.

"I take it you have elves here?"

"Oh, yes," Narcissa said, quite unashamed. "We have three elves, one for each of us, though of course my Draco does not live on the estate any longer. His elf is there for him when he deems necessary, and whilst she is not occupied with his needs she helps the others. I do remember you were quite vocal about the treatment of house elves when you were leading your charity, were you not?"

"Indeed I was. I began my first endeavour to gain equal rights for house elves during my fourth year at Hogwarts, but of course I was just a child and no one was willing to listen. I'm very against their use as slaves in our world. In the muggle world no one would stand for it," Hermione pointed out and Narcissa nodded thoughtfully.

"Many of the house elves nowadays are not treated as slaves. We provide them with shelter, food, medical treatment should they fall ill, and anything else which they require. It is not as though we _force_ them to do anything. Many of them do not even begin to accept the concept of freedom. It scares them, from what I've seen," Narcissa stated.

"They deserve proper education so they can understand what freedom and equal rights would give them. If people were willing to just donate a small amount of money then an education system could be put in place for them and all the other magical creatures which are exploited by wizards," Hermione frowned, sipping delicately at her tea. It was sweet, and she was reminded of violets and lilies at the taste.

"Of course, but what wizard would be willing to donate to that if they had such a loyal servant cooking them dinner?" Narcissa countered with a sly smile. "Miss Granger, you are such a refreshing person to talk to. Your in depth knowledge of nearly everything will never cause a dull conversation."

"Thank you, Narcissa. And please, call me Hermione. Miss Granger makes me feel old," Hermione smiled.

"Of course, Hermione. So, do tell me about your current occupation," Narcissa prompted, and Hermione launched into her description of the wizarding library and detailed her position fully.

"Of course it's very tiring, but I enjoy it ever so much. The research books which the library stocks are absolutely wonderful, and I'm one of the workers who hold presentations to members of the public so I'm given the opportunity to handle books which haven't been touched in centuries. Last week I granted a presentation to a private audience on magical torture methods of the eleventh century. The contents of the book was absolutely ghastly, not to mention the fact that it was bound in human skin, but it was still devastatingly fascinating," Hermione explained and Narcissa nodded, genuinely interested. Hermione flushed with happiness. She rarely came across someone who was willing to listen to her rambles and still be attentive.

"I believe we have some similar texts in our library here, though of course they are not quite as old," Narcissa said and Hermione's face broke out into a wide smile. "I can show you the library after tea if you would like."

"That would be wonderful, Narcissa!" Hermione beamed and the blonde witch couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction, causing a flush to rise in Hermione's cheeks.

"Now, now, no need to be embarrassed, Hermione," drawled an unfortunately familiar voice, and Hermione stiffened. "Hello, mother," Draco murmured, kissing his mother's cheek and conjuring a chair with a flick of his wand. "Good morning, Hermione," he added smoothly and she tried not to scowl.

"Ah, Draco. So nice to see you. I thought you were with your father in his study," Narcissa frowned, dabbing at her mouth delicately with a white napkin. Hermione had the sneaking suspicion that Draco had been hovering around nearby for the entirety of their conversation.

"Father and I ended ten minutes ago and I decided to go for a stroll before I headed back to my apartment," he explained, taking a miniature raspberry tart from the plate of pastries.

"How lovely. Hermione and I were just talking about her work at the library in Diagon Alley. A job which seems very fitting for such a knowledgeable young lady, don't you agree?" Narcissa queried and Hermione watched as Draco's tongue darted out to catch a spot of cream that had caught on his lips. Despite the heat of the sun, she shivered.

"I most certainly do agree, mother. Hermione has always been one for the books," he stated casually, finishing the tart and wiping his fingers on a napkin. "Though, I always thought you would pursue a path in the Ministry, perhaps our country's second female Minister for Magic."

"Third, actually," Hermione corrected him. "Artemisia Lufkin was the first female Minister in 1798, and then Millicent Bagnold was the second in 1980. Professor Binns talked about it during our fifth year History of Magic lessons. But I was never suited for politics. Besides, I doubt the vast majority of the wizarding population would approve of a muggle-born as the Minister for Magic."

"If the wizarding population had any sense whatsoever then they would appoint anyone as intelligent as you to the position of Minister for Magic, regardless of blood status," Narcissa said, observing the tension between her companions. Hermione quirked a brow at the statement but remained silent, questioning the comparison between what Narcissa just said to her years of obsession with blood status. "Now, if you are looking for something more substantial to eat then we can move to the dining room for some lunch."

Without waiting for an answer the older witch stood and swept away gracefully, expecting Hermione and Draco to follow her without hesitation. Hermione did so because she wasn't particularly keen on the idea of being stuck with Draco. Draco followed simply because he was bored and he knew his mother would be upset if he just left.

Hermione nodded absently as Narcissa talked on and on about the gardens and the history behind the grounds, not really paying attention. She still couldn't let her guard down with Draco hovering behind her, and she jumped slightly when he placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her in the right direction when she strayed. His touch seemed to send a shock through her system at even the briefest moment of contact, and she didn't like it one bit.

"Hermione, please sit. Lunch will be served momentarily," Narcissa said airily when they reached the dining room. The walls were painted a light green and the floors were dark wood, the centre of the room taken up by a long table. Hermione and Draco sat whilst Narcissa glided from the room, leaving the two rivals in an awkward silence.

"Listen, Hermione-," Draco began, but she cut him off.

"Why do you keep calling me Hermione? You've _always_ called me Granger or worse, so why the change of heart?" she couldn't keep the anger from her voice and he frowned.

"We're no longer children," he spoke slowly and she could tell he was choosing his words carefully. "I figure that seeing as we are both adults, we may as well _act_ like adults."

Hermione snorted in a very unladylike manner. "We were old enough to act like adults when we were sixteen, _Malfoy_, and yet you never did back then."

"No, because I was a brainless buffoon when I sixteen and still believed in all of the blood-purity rubbish the Dark Lord spouted. Look, Hermione, I'm simply trying to be civil. My mother wishes to become close friends with you and she feels that I should put our differences aside and be diplomatic," he stated and she frowned. "Besides, calling me Malfoy in Malfoy Manor may be a touch confusing seeing as there are three of us here at this point."

Her eyes narrowed in response and she crossed her arms, resisting the urge to pout. He raised an amused brow at her antics but said nothing, instead choosing to inspect his perfectly rounded fingernails as silence settled upon the two.

"Miss Granger," said a new voice and Hermione jumped, recognizing the cold tones of Lucius Malfoy.

"Lord Malfoy," she said, jumping to her feet. She extended her hand but he looked at it with emotionless eyes until she dropped it by her side once more. Unlike his wife, he did not ask her to drop the formalities. Narcissa frowned at her husband but remained silent and they all sat. As soon as Lucius was seated at the head of the table, food appeared on their plates, and they fell into awkward conversation.

* * *

Hermione was grateful that she had managed to escape Malfoy Manor at two o'clock.

Since lunchtime the whole affair had been awkward, the only conversation revolved around the passing of various condiments and foods around the table. Narcissa thought magic at the table to be rude.

Now she was walking down a sunny Muggle street, dressed in shorts and a jacket, on her way to meet Charlie for coffee. This was what she preferred. It was a dress down, casual, comfortable arrangement where the two of them could really go over their 'relationship', or whatever the hell it was at this point.

She could see Charlie leaning casually against a wall up ahead, waiting patiently for her arrival and she quickened her pace, waving to him. His face lit up when he saw her.

"Hey," she smiled and pressed her lips to his. He returned the kiss eagerly. "Shall we get some coffee?"

"Sounds good to me," he took her hand and allowed her to lead them into the cafe to order their drinks before the two returned outside, sitting at a table that was bathed in warm sunlight. "How are you?" he asked.

"I'm good. Sorry for running away at the ball," she said sheepishly and he chuckled, running a callused hand through his red hair. "What have you been up to?"

"Packing," he admitted and she frowned.

"Why are you packing?"

"I have to go back to Romania, Hermione," he murmured, his eyes sad. She could feel a lump forming in her throat. "One of the Hungarian Horntail females has gotten sick. We need her for the next breeding season, and they need me to help heal her."

"Oh," Hermione breathed. She didn't trust herself to say anything more than that.

"I didn't expect that anything would happen when I was here, and I can't give up my work," Charlie said softly, reaching out to place his hand on her own. She pulled her own back and wiped it across her face, brushing her palm against a drop of moisture that had fallen from her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Forget about it. It was stupid of me to think that something would happen," she let out a humourless laugh and coughed to clear the lump in her throat.

"Hermione, I really don't want to leave you, but I don't have a choice. If you're up for it then I still want us to be together."

"A long distance relationship?" she asked bitterly as the waitress arrived with their coffees. Sensing the tense atmosphere the muggle woman hurriedly left. "Long distance relationships never work out."

"We can still try," Charlie said, his tone almost pleading.

"I don't want to set myself up for heartbreak," she said with an air of finality. "When do you leave?"

"Monday morning," he said with a defeated sigh. "My portkey leaves at ten that morning."

"That's nice," she muttered, draining the last of her coffee. "I have to go. I'm sorry this didn't work out. I'll see you around, Charlie."

Willing herself to keep it together, the brunette stood and turned to go. She tried to pull away when Charlie captured her hand in his own but to no avail.

"Hermione. Please know that I'm so sorry for this. I'm coming back from Romania for good in three months, if you still want me," he offered and pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand. She felt more tears well in her eyes and just nodded at him. She pried her hand from his grasp and turned to leave once more, this time for good.

**

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A/N: I'm sorry! This was far later than I had hoped, but I have good reason. I've been working on my own fiction lately and also studying like mad for exams, which are on Monday and it is currently Saturday. For this reason, I'm not going to be updating until Wednesday at the earliest. This is much shorter than I had planned it to be, but I really just wanted to get a chapter out to you lovely readers. And now that Charlie is gone, we can have some wonderful Draco/Hermione fun! ;D  
**

**Please review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hi. This is possibly the most ridiculously late chapter that I've ever posted, but I have reason. My best friend is moving interstate, and she is really well-liked so about four different people have held different farewell parties and I've had to go to those, as well as many coffees with our smaller group of friends. Plus, I've been fairly upset that she's leaving, so I haven't had all that much time to write. She leaves in two days so after that I should be free of obligations for a while and be able to get more writing done, though I remember saying this last week...**

* * *

"Hermione."

The rough voice startled her and she whirled around, dropping all the books she had been sorting in the process. Placing a hand against her beating heart that felt ready to leap from her chest, she scrutinized the disturbance and glared.

"Malfoy. What are you doing here?" she snapped, waving her wand so the books that were scattered on the floor flew into a neat pile on a nearby table.

"Looking for you, as it so happens. My mother wishes to speak with you about restarting your charity, and for simple catch-up, I imagine. She asked me to be the messenger," Draco drawled.

"I would be much more appreciative if she simple owled me rather than have you be her little messenger boy, especially whilst I am at work," she scowled, scooping the books into her arms.

"It's a Sunday. The library is _closed_ on Sundays, and you don't even work weekends," he pointed out.

"Well then, if the library is closed, how did you get in here?" Hermione demanded and he rolled his eyes.

"My family are the reason this library is even here. We have an entire wing devoted to us. I'm allowed entrance whenever I please," he stated smugly and she turned her back on him, putting the books away with more force than she ought to.

"Why did Narcissa send you?" she ground out, shoving _Magical Cures for Foot Fungi_ into _The Screaming Book of Screaming_, which fell out the other side of the bookshelf. With a low growl she stomped around the shelf, quite a feat in her heels, and slammed the screaming book closed. As she bent down Draco leant around and looked at the round perfection of her ass, covered by the flimsy skirt she was wearing. He smirked.

"My mother has business in Paris to attend to. I suppose she sent me as she knows I can woo even the hardest of hearts with my charming personality and witty conversations. Perhaps she wishes me to sweep you off your feet," his eyes danced with humour, but he knew that these were exactly his mother's intentions. Of course he couldn't tell the truth to the fiery brunette who stood before him, her cheeks flushed with anger. Her curls seemed to crackle with anger.

"Then please inform your mother that I will join her at a later date. And ask her to _owl_ the details to me. I don't have the time for an impromptu meeting with _you_," she snapped, shooing him from the library.

Once he was gone from her sight she fell back into a nearby armchair, closing her eyes tiredly. Since Charlie had left, three weeks ago, she had just thrown herself into her work at the library, and had been researching the most pointless things to occupy her time at home. She didn't allow herself a moment to rest, working from the time she got up until the time she fell, exhausted, into her bed each night.

She hadn't _wanted_ a moment to think. She missed Charlie terribly, though nothing had come of their would-be relationship, but she refused to let herself get distracted by such a trivial thing as a relationship. She didn't want to re-enter the world of scandal she had escaped from when she left the wizarding world the last time, and relationships were definitely dangerous territory. She wished she could just never leave the library which, like at Hogwarts, was her sanctuary.

Her eyelids began to droop and she let out a yawn. From her rough guesses she had achieved a grand total of eight hours sleep in the last three nights, having stayed up late researching and reading and arriving at work before Lucinda had. Of course, the repercussion of this was absolute exhaustion, and she found that if she switched off her brain for half a moment then sleep would try and overtake her.

With a loud sigh she decided that perhaps she should just go home and rest, and with that choice made she spun on the spot and disappeared with a loud crack that made _The Screaming Book of Screaming_ let out one last muffled shriek.

* * *

Draco had rolled his eyes at his mother's request and had argued until he was blue in the face, but there was no swaying Narcissa Malfoy when she had made up her mind. This was why he was unlatching the gate that lead up to Hermione's home on a sunny Sunday morning, two weeks after the encounter in her workplace.

He truly appreciated her little house. It was a decent size and powder blue, with a classic white trim along the roof. There was a small front garden with an old oak tree and window boxes overflowing with flowers. Over the top of the low roof he could glimpse the tips of another tall oak, and he found himself walking up the stone path and admiring the perfectly green grass. He had the inkling that it was kept magically; Hermione had never seemed to have a great interest in Herbology, though she of course held perfect marks.

There was a little bench on the front porch and he picked a petunia from a pot as he knocked on the door. He waited patiently for a few moments and heard the sound of approaching footsteps and, in a particularly cheesy gesture, held the petunia out in front. The door opened and he was faced with a very upset Hermione Granger.

Her eyes were pink and puffy and there were tear tracks marking her cheeks. He couldn't help but dart his eyes downward when he realized all she was wearing was a tank top and a pair of knickers with a satin robe hanging around her frame, untied.

"Oh, fuck," she muttered, glaring at him through tear-filled eyes and crooked glasses. With a gasp she realized what she was wearing and hurried to cover herself up, but he had already caught an eyeful, and what a wonderful eyeful it was. "Why are you here?"

"Why are you crying?" he asked, sidestepping her and entering the front hallway. The hardwood floors were dark and the walls a light, cheery yellow, photographs hanging in pretty frames, muggle and magical.

"Did I say you could come in?" she snapped, but closed the door and began to lead him into the next room, her front lounge. It looked more like a library than anything, and he glanced at the titles in interest. "Why are you here? I told you to get your mother to send me an owl if she wanted to contact me, not use _you_ as her little messenger boy."

"Mother prefers a more personal approach, and she is busy catching up with friends today, so she sent me to meet you," he stated. "Now, I've answered your question, so you answer mine."

She glared at him and he grinned back. They remained in silence for three minutes before Hermione let out an infuriated snort and threw The Daily Prophet at him. "Front page," she snapped. "I'm going to go and get changed, and for Godric's sake, do _not_ touch _anything_."

He nodded absently, sitting down in a chair by the window. A white cat jumped onto the arm of the chair and perched there, observing him with wide eyes as he read the article.

_War Hero a Proud Father_

_After a life of fighting some of the darkest wizards our world has ever seen, a little more light is now shining into the life of Ron Weasley, war hero, and his fiancée Marietta Edgecomb. The couple welcomed a daughter, Rose Cedrella, in the early hours of Saturday morning. A source close to the couple say both the mother and new baby are doing fine, and they will be released from St. Mungo's Hospital by Monday morning. _

_Harry Potter, defeater of You-Know-Who and best friend to Ron Weasley had been named Rose's godfather, but has declined comment on the state of the young family._

_Ron and Marietta are due to marry in five weeks at what is reported to be a large ceremony to be held on the ground of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_For pictures of the new family, pick up a copy of next Monday's _The Daily Prophet_ for exclusive photographs and interviews with the parents._

Draco snorted and rolled up the newspaper. So _this_ was why she was crying. The Weasel had finally reproduced, and with that pock-marked Ravenclaw no less. He shook his head at the stupidity of Hermione's emotions just as she walked back into the room dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. This was the most dressed down he'd seen her since Hogwarts.

"Are you seriously crying over the fact that Weasley had a kid?" Draco asked doubtfully as Hermione curled into an armchair.

"I couldn't give a damn about his progeny," she snapped, scratching her cat, who had moved to her chair.

"Well then why are you a blubbering mess?" Draco frowned. He had never been brilliant with crying girls but honestly, what man was?

"He called the baby _Rose_," Hermione's voice cracked and more tears began. "That was supposed to be _our _name!" She wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees, and began to wail.

'Oh shit,' Draco thought. He _hated_ when women cried, especially when a woman as strong as Hermione cried. He just sat there, looking at her with an appalled face until she calmed down enough to shoot him a glare.

"How nice and consoling of you," she snapped, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "If you've had enough of watching me cry, then you can leave. Of course, I can always give an encore performance."

"Hey, I like a healthy dose of drama. Watching it, at least. Anyway, what do you say?"

"What do I say about what?" she asked sharply, removing the last traces of her emotions.

"Meeting with my mother. She's quite persistent, don't you think?" he grinned at her collected state, glad he wouldn't have to deal with any more crying women.

"If it means I can get you the hell out of my house, then tell your mother I'll meet her in Diagon Alley next Saterday."

"Diagon Alley? Really?" he snorted and she sent him a watery glare. "I believe my mother was thinking more along the lines of lunch in Paris."

"Paris?" she asked sceptically and he nodded. "Fine. Paris it is. Now, get the hell out of-"

She didn't get a chance to finish kicking him out because at that moment the fireplace filled with bright green flames and out came Ginny, immediately engulfing Hermione in a hug. Draco stood awkwardly in the room, waiting for the redhead to notice him.

"Oh Hermione, I'm so sorry about my git of a brother," she said when they broke apart and she took in the brunette's tearstained face. "I absolutely _cannot_ believe he called his daughter Rose."

"Don't worry about it, Gin. It shouldn't matter to me this much. I'll be fine," Hermione assured her friend.

Somewhat annoyed at the fact that he was being ignored, Draco cleared his throat quite loudly, causing both of the women in the room to turn and face him with identical angry expressions.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here, Malfoy?" Ginny snapped and he stepped back, raising his hands in defence.

"I was simply here on my mother's wishes to invite Hermione out for lunch. Nothing bad, I promise you," he tried to convince her but she let out a sound like a very angry cat and he couldn't help but retreat once more.

"Malfoy, you've given your message and I've replied with my own. You're free to leave, so just go," Hermione said and he didn't think twice before hurrying from the house.

Hermione on her own he could handle, but he knew that Potter's wife was very feisty and didn't think twice before throwing hexes around. He reached the end of the street and disapparated loudly.

* * *

Hermione hummed quietly to herself, returning three books on giants in the Great Dividing Range of Australia that had been left out by a visitor to the library. She had enjoyed a long heart to heart with Ginny regarding Ron and his new daughter, and then Hermione had poured her heart out to her friend about Charlie.

Since he had left, Charlie had sent an owl every single day without fail. Most of them were short apologies, but sometimes he detailed her on what had been occurring in Romania. She hadn't replied to any of them, but had read them all numerous times. Ginny hadn't been all that shocked about the would-be romance between her older brother and her friend, but she was still surprised to see how far the romance had progressed.

"Hermione, can you help me close up?" Lucinda asked, appearing beside Hermione.

"Sure, just give me a second. I want to take some books home on Eastern magical healing procedures," Hermione grinned guiltily and Lucinda chuckled.

"I'll go and get the best books we have on that and check them out for you. Meet me at the front in five, but look out. The press are still swarming around and looking for a statement for you on your ex-husband's kid. She's a cute baby," the shorter witch remarked and Hermione nodded absently. She had chosen to ignore all mention of Ron and Rose, and that included when it came to the press. They had been waiting around the library all through her work hours, waiting for her to leave the building so they could get an exclusive comment.

Seven minutes later Hermione was pushing through the crowds of reporters, purposefully stepping on Lavender Brown's foot with her rather large black heel. The blonde had shrieked in pain but Hermione was already gone at that point, reappearing on her front porch to a very happy Altheda. The cat mewed loudly, rubbing herself against Hermione's black pants and dusting them with white fur. Hermione chuckled and scratched the feline's ears, unlocking the door with a quick wave of her wand.

It was Friday evening and she was planning on just curling up in her lounge with a cup of tea and her books she had borrowed. She was meeting with Narcissa the next morning at Malfoy Manor where they were then taking a portkey to Paris. They were leaving early and Hermione wanted to appear marginally decent when she was in Paris, so she was waking early to prepare herself for the day, and it was due to this that by eight o'clock that evening she was curled in bed, fast asleep.

Her wand began to vibrate on the table at six o'clock the next morning and she groaned and rolled over to shut it up. The early autumn morning was cold and she shuddered once her feet hit the floorboards. She was expected at the Manor at eight but the warmth of her shower kept her in the bathroom until half past six at which point the bathroom was so steamed up she couldn't see more than an inch in front of her face. She wrapped a towel around her middle and returned to her bedroom to shrug on a bathrobe. Altheda opened one eye at the disturbance but snuggled back into the covers.

"Lucky cat," Hermione muttered, bracing herself against the cold and shuffling to the kitchen to prepare a cup of tea and some toast. By seven thirty she had lost all track of time and was still seated at the table, and it was only when Altheda jumped onto the table that Hermione looked up from her book and shrieked at the time, effectively scaring the cat from the table.

She ran back to her room, discarding her robe on the way, and rifled through her wardrobe, eventually pulling out a pair of white jeans, a grey shirt and black blazer. The outfit was snug and outside her normal attire, and she had never built up the guts to wear the jeans, but they seemed appropriate for the day's activities.

Half an hour later she had applied some light makeup and pulled her hair into a loose ponytail at the back of her head and was locking up her house. She hurried to a deserted area and apparated away quickly, stumbling on arrival at Malfoy Manor due to her terrifyingly high heels. By this point she was already two minutes late, and tardiness was heavily frowned upon by both the Malfoys and Hermione, so, despite the shoes that threatened to tip her over at any moment, she began an awkward run up the drive to the front doors.

"Hermione, I was getting worried that you would not be able to make the portkey in time," Narcissa said calmly. The older witch had been waiting just outside the doors beside a jewel encrusted comb. "Come now, dear. It's about to leave."

As Hermione quickly placed a finger on the comb it began to glow blue. She felt the familiar tug behind her navel and the world spun for a few moments, and then she touched down in Paris.

**

* * *

A/N: I hate this chapter. It's just a filler. Not only is this a filler, but it's a terribly short chapter as well. Far shorter than I had hoped. But please review anyway, and if you have any questions about the story or anything else then don't hesitate to ask. Also, there is a link in my profile which has all outfits the females in this story wear as well as all the representations of the characters in my story. Go go go!  
**

**Also, Cedrella is the name of Ron's paternal grandmother. It isn't just some totally bizarre name I pulled out of nowhere. **

**Anyway, please review! The next chapter will be the excitements of Paris.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: This is late, and my excuses are feeble, but I've been through a trying week including a relationship break up (fuck you, Chris, if you happen to be reading this) which is one reason why it's late. I'll have another chapter up before Friday, as I'm going away for the weekend. My mother deems retail shopping necessary. Read on, my lovelies!**

* * *

The blonde let out a content sigh and collapsed into the arms of her lover, waiting for their breathing to slow.

"That...wow," was all she mustered and her companion let out a deep chuckle, pulling her well endowed body closer to his own and pressing their lips together in a sloppy kiss. They lay together, occasionally kissing and caressing each other's bodies as they came down from their high. Once their tremors ceased and they felt well enough rested, the blonde woman rolled from the man's grasp and sat up.

"Where are you going?" he frowned, propping himself on one elbow and ignoring the sheet that slipped down to reveal his freckled chest. "It's barely noon."  
"No, it's three o'clock in the afternoon and I have a meeting with my editor," she reminded him in a nasal voice, slipping a white singlet over her chest to hide her ample bosom. She stood and pulled on a short black skirt and tossed on shocking pink robes over the top. "I'll see you later, Ron," she winked, getting on the bed on her hands and knees and pressing her lips against his firmly.

"Oh, you're not getting away _that_ easily," Ron growled, pulling the blonde against his body and kissing her ferociously. Her hand wandered down beneath the sheet and gripped him. "Oh gods, Lavender!" he moaned as she squeezed gently and then relinquished her hold. In his moment of euphoria she hopped off the bed grinning wickedly.

"Expect my owl," Lavender smirked as she escaped through the hotel door.

Ron let out a frustrated groan at his lost chance (though they _had_ been at it for a few hours prior) and dealt with his little problem by himself.

* * *

"Narcissa?" Hermione spoke up timidly. They were seated in the back of a rather plush limousine that had picked them up when they reached Paris, and for the last ten minutes they had been sitting in silence. Hermione had felt very awkward as Narcissa sat across from her and observing her, and she felt it was time to at least make conversation.

"Yes, Hermione?" the elder witch asked, daintily recrossing her legs and resting her hands in her lap. Her oversized white bag lay on the seat next to her. Hermione couldn't help but think that Narcissa was one of the most fashion conscious people she had ever met.

"I was wondering why you brought me to Paris," Hermione said and Narcissa smiled.

"I absolutely adore Paris. The food, the wine, the clothes, the culture. France has _such_ a fascinating wizarding history as well, though I do not doubt that you are already well informed of it. Wizarding culture in France is so much more _alive_ than the drabness of Britain's. I figured I would give you a taste of the culture, and I want to introduce you to a few of my associates who have similar mindsets to your own," the car pulled to a stop as Narcissa stopped speaking and the door flew open on its own accord.

Hermione climbed out and immediately gasped at her surroundings. They stood before a towering, breathtaking chateau. Hermione couldn't help but be reminded of princesses as Narcissa walked her up the stone stairs to the front entrance. They were surrounded by splendid gardens and lush grass, and Hermione had the distinct feeling that they had travelled far further than a muggle car could in twenty minutes. Narcissa raised an elegant hand and knocked on the old oak door twice. After a few minutes the door opened, revealing a vast entrance hall and a smiling witch. Without a second thought Hermione realized that this woman was at least part Veela.

"Ah, Narcissa! 'Ow wonderful," she said in a silky voice, sweeping forward and kissing Narcissa's cheeks. When she stepped back Hermione surveyed the woman properly. She was the most beautiful woman Hermione had ever seen. Her silvery blonde hair hung in large curls to midway down her back, and her large eyes were a misty grey.

"Bonjour," Narcissa said, smiling broadly as well. "Hermione, I would like you to meet my friend Calline Chevalier. Calline, this is Hermione Granger."

Something in Hermione's mind clicked at the mention of Calline's last name and she had to fight her jaw from dropping. The Chevalier family were the richest family in the wizarding world. Their line extended back further than the records were kept, and were known not only for their masses of wealth, but also enchanting looks. Long ago, a member of their lineage had bred with a Veela, and the blood of the beautiful creatures had been dominant ever since. It seemed many Chevaliers could not help but fall for Veelas, and the Veelas also became smitten with the humans.

Calline Chevalier was the last left of the family, and according to the press she had no intentions of marrying or continuing the line legitimately. For a child to inherit the Chevalier fortune, they must be birthed to a couple joined in wedlock, and it appeared Calline had no intentions of ever marrying. She had enjoyed a string of lovers, though none had given her a child, and none had escalated past the point of lover in their relationship. She was not rushed, however. With the Veela blood came a prolonged lifetime, and though she had been alive for fifty three years, she looked not a day over twenty five, and the rest of her biological makeup matched the age she appeared.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle Chevalier," Hermione greeted the stunning witch who swept forward and, much to Hermione's surprise, placed two kisses upon her cheeks.

"'Ermione Granger! Eet iz a pleasure to 'ave you in my 'ome," Calline beamed, beckoning Hermione and Narcissa inside.

Hermione looked around the grand room with awe, but had no time to note down the intricate details as Calline and Narcissa swept through the large area and onto a quainter, but no less impressive, parlour. A clock in the corner tolled, informing them that it was nine o'clock. Calline sat in a light blue armchair and indicated that Narcissa and Hermione were to do the same.

Hermione sat awkwardly whilst Narcissa and Calline jabbered in French with one another. To ease her boredom she looked around the room with great interest. The walls were pale and the floors dark, with mismatched furniture scattered without. There were patched blankets, no doubt sewn with the finest fabrics available, thrown over the couches, and paintings, both wizard and muggle, adorned the walls. As Hermione observed her eyes met with the green eyes of a portrait's and she viewed the painting carefully.

"My father when 'e was younger," Calline explained, following Hermione's gaze.

"Calline, do you remember when we were younger and he caught us trying to sneak into the cellar to steal some of his wine?" Narcissa asked, chuckling to herself. Calline joined in, nodding.

"Eet _was_ ze best wine in ze country at zat point," the French witch reminded Narcissa who laughed again.

"Still, we were barely twenty. We had no appreciation of fine wines at that point. All we wanted was something to make the night a little bit more interesting," Narcissa's eyes twinkled mischievously at the memory and Calline giggled.

"'E was furious," she smiled at Hermione who smiled back absently.

"Forgive us, Hermione. We have not seen each other in an age. Reminiscing is simply what we do," Narcissa said apologetically, sitting up straighter. "Now, I believe we should talk business."

"Business?" Hermione asked and Narcissa nodded.

"Calline here has similar beliefs as you do regarding the treatment of house elves," Narcissa explained. "She has been wishing to start a charity regarding elfish welfare, but is lacking the support in doing so."

"And this is where I come in, I assume," Hermione smiled and Narcissa nodded.

"Your fame as well as your knowledge in running such a charity would be a great asset to this endeavour. I would be a major donator, clearly, thought Calline is in possession of more than enough money to get you off the ground," Narcissa said.

"Eet would mean a lot to me if you would aid me," Calline smiled and Hermione chewed her lip in thought.

She loved her work at the library, but she had adored her charity work. She had been making a difference, she had been _helping_ people. She had been making a difference, something that was not happening each day at the library, and something that had definitely not occurred when she had worked at the advertising firm.

"I think I would like to join you," she decided after a few minutes of thinking, and the elder witches' faces broke into wide smiles.

"Well then, let us get down to business!" Narcissa clapped her hands excitedly and the three were immersed in conversation until six o'clock that evening, barring a brief interlude for lunch. By the time nightfall had come they had decided to base the charity out of London, with Calline visiting often on weekends to see to business with Hermione and Narcissa. They had outlined the basis of their aim (to grant equal rights to all house elves including holidays, payment and clothes) and were now completely ravenous.

"What do you say to dinner?" Calline offered and Hermione nodded enthusiastically. "I 'ave booked us into L'Ambroisie for seven o'clock."

"L'Ambroisie?" Hermione asked, brow creasing. "Isn't that incredibly difficult to get into?"

"Not when you are a Chevalier, 'Ermione," Calline laughed. "Now, I do not believe you are dressed properly. I will get you both some dresses." The French witch got to her feet and swept from the room before Hermione could protest.

"Oh, I must tell Draco to meet us at the restaurant," Narcissa thought aloud and Hermione stiffened.

"Draco?" she asked, feigning innocence.

"Yes, of course! He is here, shopping. I told him he _must_ take a look at some new clothes. What he wears sometimes is absolutely ghastly," Narcissa frowned, withdrawing her wand. With a flourish she produced a patronus swan. "Draco, we are dining at L'Ambroisie at seven o'clock. Do not be late, and for Salazar's sake, dress nicely." With that the swan departed, leaving a misty trail of silver in its wake.

"You know, I should probably be getting home, actually. I forgot to feed my cat," Hermione mumbled her feeble excuses and got to her feet, collecting her belongings and shrugging on her jacket. "Thank Calline for me, and let her know I will send an owl in the morning," she added, grabbing her wand and making for the door. Narcissa's dainty hand clasped her wrist.

"You are not going anywhere," she said, frowning. "What has gotten into you?"

"I simply don't think it is a good idea," Hermione said.

"What? The charity? My, you were all for it just ten minutes ago," Narcissa feigned stupidity.

"No, not the charity. My frequent encounters with your son," the brunette clarified, resuming her seat. Narcissa's features softened.

"Hermione, he means you no harm," she assured the girl who shook her head.

"I'm not afraid. I just want to live without drama for a while," Hermione sighed and Narcissa frowned. "The war was basically my adolescence, and then I married Ron straight out of school, and that was _always_ a whirlwind. Then came the babies, the divorce, and now I'm just coming back into the wizarding world and already seem to have one failed relationship. Everything is just beginning to settle, but now I'm restarting this charity, and every interaction I have with Draco seems to either leave me hurt or utterly furious. Everything with him seems so _passionate_ and truthfully, I'm unsure of his motives."

Narcissa took this all in seriously, absorbing and compiling her response with much thought. "Hermione, dear, Draco's intentions are entirely innocent. He simply wishes to put your colourful past behind you and begin with a fresh slate," she said. "I will admit, I have encouraged him and his actions. I want you to be on speaking terms with my entire family, and by being friends with me your communication with Draco will be required. My son and I are quite close, and I am not willing to break that bond. I ask you to please, just give him a chance."

"Narcissa," Hermione sighed, gnawing on her lip, "I understand what you want, but I don't know if I can put everything behind me. Your son was my tormentor for my entire secondary education, and I know he's changed, but I don't know if I can simply accept his friendship." Narcissa sent Hermione a pleading look. "But, for the sake of our friendship, I'll try."

"Thank you, Hermione," Narcissa breathed a sigh of relief. "And I give you full permission to hex him into the next week if he does anything to hurt you."

Hermione let out a chuckle, relieved that the tense moment was over. Calline chose that moment to return to the room, already dressed with two other dresses tossed over her arm. Shoes and bags hovered in the air behind her, falling to the ground with a soft thud. Hermione's eyes widened as she took in the half-Veela's appearance.

During the day she had been wearing a ridiculously short red dress, black heels and a black jacket, and it seemed she was dressing more outlandishly for the dinner. Her black heels were impossibly high and her sequined dress impossibly short. Hermione felt a pang of jealousy. Her blonde hair was lightly curled and she looked as though she had just stepped from the runway.

"Narcissa, I 'ave a dress 'ere for you," the French witch smiled, handing Narcissa a pale pink garment. "Ze bathroom is to ze left."

Narcissa accepted the dress and disappeared into the bathroom whilst Calline fussed about with the shoes and bags, finally withdrawing a pair of high purple heels. Hermione hoped her heels would not have to be that large, though she assumed there would be charms placed on them to ensure the wearer did not trip. Narcissa emerged, absolutely beaming, and slipped the shoes on quickly.

"'Eet iz your turn now, 'Ermione," Calline instructed, handing a white dress to Hermione and nudging her towards the bathroom. Hermione frowned and accepted the item of clothing, scrunching her face at the texture when she turned away. A leather embellished dress? She had never heard of such a thing, much less worn one. She entered the bathroom and stripped down quickly, thankful she had worn a white bra and knickers. She slipped the dress on with little difficulty and her eyes bugged out when she took in her appearance.

Even without any heels her legs seemed never ending, and the dress contrasted with her sun-kissed skin perfectly. There were small silver embellishments as well as the leather additions, and Hermione was in awe of her appearance.

"Hermione, are you quite alright?" Narcissa's concerned voice came through the door and Hermione jumped and laughed at her own fright, leaving the bathroom and rejoining Calline and Narcissa. As soon as Hermione entered the room Calline shoved a pair of high heels in her direction and her jaw dropped. They were _terrifyingly_ tall. Hermione shook her head.

"Nonsense! Zey will look amazing!" Calline insisted. Hermione knew that if she refused then they would _force_ the shoes onto her feet, so she accepted them with a resigned sigh. She wobbled slightly when she stood, now as tall as Narcissa.

"Shall we?" the older witch asked, and Calline and Hermione nodded. With L'Ambroisie in mind, they spun on the spot and appeared in front of the wizarding entrance of the restaurant. This part of the restaurant was hidden from muggle view, as was the entire wizarding dining area. The food was exactly the same but serving was more extravagant in the wizarding area due to many charms and spells created for the sole purpose of food serving.

They were greeted at the door by the enthusiastic maître d' who led the way to their table where Draco was already seated. The young wizard stood at their arrival.

"Mademoiselle Chevalier, it has been too long," he said smoothly, kissing the cheeks of Calline.

"You 'ave grown up since I saw you," she smiled and Draco blushed. Hermione stifled a laugh.

"Mother," Draco said once he had regained his normal complexion, embracing Narcissa and pressing his lips to her cheek. Narcissa sent a lazy smile her son's way and joined Calline at one side of the tabe.

"Ah. Hermione," Draco greeted Hermione awkwardly, and lifted her hand to brush his lips against it. Hermione blushed and withdrew her hand hastily.

"Hello, Draco," she said and allowed him to push her chair in behind her once she sat. He joined them at the table, beside Hermione, and they waited for their pre-ordered meal to come out. Calline and Narcissa decided to hold their own conversation in French, leaving Draco and Hermione to their own devices.

"So..." Draco said after five minutes of fiddling with his napkin, and Hermione suppressed a sigh.

"Your mother informed me of your intentions," Hermione said after a pregnant pause and Draco quirked a brow. "That you were simply trying to rectify our relationship."

"Oh," was all he could say and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Thank you for being noble about it," she said and he smiled. "It would be nice to start again. Not just with you, but with everyone."

"You always have to start somewhere," Draco shrugged. "But we're not doing some stupid reintroduction thing, by the way."

Hermione laughed, finally relaxing into her chair. The waiters brought out two bottles of expensive champagne and poured the golden liquid into their flutes whilst Draco and Hermione lapsed into casual conversation. After a few more minutes, four beautiful lilies were placed in front of the four diners, on delicate plates. Hermione held her breath in anticipation and was not disappointed as the lily in front of her shrunk and closed up before turning into the first course of their meal.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Draco winked at her beginning to eat. The food was sublime, and possibly the most delicious meal Hermione had ever eaten. The serving of snails cooked with wild garlic and rocket, sprinkled lightly with parmesan cheese was only small, but too much of it would render one sick of the dish.

When they had all finished their food they fell back into easy conversation, Draco corking open another bottle of champagne and refilling their glasses.

"Whatever happened to your marriage to that Greengrass girl?" Hermione asked, sipping from her glass. Her cheeks were pink and she was almost constantly smiling.

Draco cringed. "You heard about that? She was vile. Only after my money and as daft as a doorknob."

"She was pretty, though," Hermione pointed out.

"She is more than pretty. She's beautiful, but only on the outside. She's vain and self-centred, and there is more to life than good looks," Draco reminded her. "Besides, I would rather someone I can hold a decent conversation with than someone as beautiful as Astoria."

"I see," Hermione said. She opened her mouth to say something more when the second course, pan fried sole with asparagus and morels in vin jaune, arrived. The smells coming from the plate (delivered normally by waiters this time) were divine, and all thoughts of conversation left Hermione's head as she consumed the delicate food.

"What about you and Weasley?" Draco asked when their plates had disappeared and Hermione looked at him, lifting her champagne flute to her mouth once more.

"Which one?" she asked bluntly. "Merlin, that sounds so slutty."

Draco let out a loud laugh at her words. "Ron," he clarified. "What's the _real_ story behind that?"  
"You sound like a reporter," she grimaced and sighed. "He wanted kids, I didn't. Eventually I caved and got pregnant, but I had a miscarriage." She paused and swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. "We were devastated, but Ron...he just wanted me to keep going. He was determined to have a child with me. So I got pregnant again, and had another miscarriage. And then another. And then he wrote to me one day and told me he was having an affair." She let out a humourless laugh. "He said he was desperate to have a child, and seeing as I couldn't give him one, he had found someone who could."

"What a tosser," Draco frowned, reaching for the champagne bottle and pouring more into their glasses.

"You can say that again," Hermione muttered. "The short of it is, he's a cheating prat and I'm apparently unable to have a child."

"Are children important to you?" Draco asked and Hermione shrugged.

"I don't really know. I never pencilled having kids into my grand scheme of things, but I suppose having children tends to be a random affair for most. My mother never thought she'd have kids, and then I popped up. The ability to have them is always nice," she frowned.

Draco, sensing that this was an awkward topic to have brought up, was very grateful when a sprig of ambroisie appeared before them. Each leaf morphed into an element of the dish. The largest leaf changed into a beautifully cooked piece of pigeon with a caramelized onion glaze and the other into side dishes of peas and seasonal vegetables. As with the other two courses, the food melted when tasted and was simply incredible, but Hermione could not rid the sour taste left in her mouth from her conversation with Draco. She finished the dish last, earning a worried look from Narcissa as she had finished the other two courses first, but she gave a small smile in return and the older witch looked away.

"I shouldn't have brought that up," Draco frowned apologetically. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. Let's just not talk about it," Hermione said, her tone sharp. "How is working for Beedle going?"

Grateful for the change of conversation, Draco chattered pointlessly on about his employment until dessert arrived. At this point Hermione seemed to be in better spirits, though that was no doubt due to the champagne and now dessert wines she had been steadily consuming. The individual cheesecakes with strawberry coulis were divine, and Hermione ate hers rapidly.

Coffee was served not long after, and the four joined in conversation about the new charity endeavour. Draco was interested in the prospect of helping with whatever he could, earning a delighted smile from Calline and Narcissa.

It was midnight when the quartet finally stood to leave. Calline insisted on paying the enormous bill which was equal to six months of Hermione's salary, and Draco placed a steadying hand on Hermione's lower back as they left. Hermione had drunk an awful lot and was very red. She leaned heavily on Draco as they left and he guided her towards a glowing blue wine bottle that would act as a portkey.

The last thing Hermione heard before she was pulled away was Narcissa murmuring to Draco about making sure that she got to bed safely, and then Draco's pale finger reached out and touched the wine bottle too. When they landed in her lounge room, Draco helped her to her feet and all but carried her to her bedroom where he pulled off her shoes and helped her beneath the covers, and then there was darkness.

**

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PLEASE REVIEW! I love reviews. They make me happy.**

**One thing I want to inform you of: This story isn't going to be really fast paced Dramione loved up action. I'm trying to make it as realistic as possible, so there will still be fighting and so on later. Just because they made nice when Hermione was drunk doesn't mean they'll be friends forever. **

**As well as this, I'll be adding in parts from other characters' lives, like the first part of this chapter.**

**Also, L'Ambroisie is a real restaurant, and the food mentioned in this chapter is on the menu there. It is a three Michelin star restaurant, hence why I chose it. Once again, there are photos of outfits, as well as the chateau, if you follow the link in my profile.  
**

**REVIEW! **


	11. Chapter 11

"The nerve of some people!"

Lucius Malfoy frowned at the shriek of his wife and looked up. Narcissa was pacing around the room, mumbling wildly to herself. Lucius placed his cup of tea and newspaper, The Greedy Galleon, down on the table and cleared his throat in an attempt to rouse Narcissa from her thoughts. Narcissa looked up at him with sharp eyes and stopped, placing her hands on her hips.

"I'm going out. I should be back for lunch," she said and turned, marching from the room, presumably to change into something decent. Lucius raised his brows at Narcissa's back but she had already swept from the dining room and up the stairs to their bedroom. He released a sigh and shook his head as he picked up his newspaper once more. Narcissa returned five minutes later in a pretty black dress, her shoes clipping noisily against the marble floor.

"Darling, where are you going?" Lucius called, not looking up from his paper.

"To hex Barnabus Laphroaig into last century," she replied back and he frowned once more. "Check the front page of the Prophet."

"Can I watch?" Lucius muttered to himself, abandoning The Greedy Galleon in favour for The Daily Prophet and his eyes widened. "What in Merlin's name is _this_?"

* * *

Narcissa walked confidently and quickly through the halls, ignoring the cries of protests from underlings and interns. A young wizard, fresh out of Hogwarts by the looks of him, tried to stop her but she sent a glare his way that had him recoiling behind his desk. When she reached her destination, she was stopped by a confident woman.

"You can't go in there, miss. Mister Laphroaig is in a meeting," she said, coming to stand between Narcissa and the grand oak doors.

"I don't care. I am going in there, and I seriously doubt you will stop me," Narcissa said coldly.

"Miss, I will resort to force if it is necessary," the woman said.

"Are you _threatening_ me? Do you have _any_ idea who I am?" Narcissa's voice was shrill and the woman only shook her head. "You will get out of my way, or so help me, I will curse you without a moment's hesitation."

"Miss, I can't let you do that," the woman reached for her wand and Narcissa snorted.

"Move. Let me in, or you will feel what it is like to be cursed by Narcissa Malfoy, and that is _not_ an experience you will wish to live with," Narcissa's voice was low and deadly and the woman flinched.

"Lady Malfoy! Please, please forgive me! I meant no harm, simply protocol," she squeaked.

"It is protocol to threaten all of Barnabus' visitors. Strange, but understandable. Now, I am going to go in there, and you are not to allow anyone in, no matter how loudly Barnabus is screaming. Are we clear?"

"Crystal, Lady Malfoy," the woman nodded, waving her wand to unlock the oak doors. Narcissa flashed her a smile and glided through the doors, keeping the pleasant smile plastered upon her face.

"Yes, it _is_ quite the scandal, so I would certainly be willing to pay that much for any more pictures you may have," a squeaky voice, belonging to the particularly squat Barnabus Laphroaig said, oblivious to Narcissa's entrance.

"I would not do that if I were you. Judging by the slander you've posted on the front page of your newspaper today, you're talking about my son and Hermione Granger, and I can assure you, any photos are fabricated," Narcissa interrupted, seating herself in a lounge chair in the corner of the large room. Barnabus jumped, hitting his head on the mantle and ending the Floo conversation he was having.

"Oh! Narcissa. How _charming_ it is to see you," he simpered, scuttling over towards her and grasping her hand. She sneered coldly at his form and he stood to his full height, barely as tall as Narcissa when she was seated.

"I cannot say the same about you, Barnabus," her voice was cool and he paled slightly.

"Wh-wh-what do you mean, Cissy?"

"Don't call me that! You know perfectly well what I mean. How _dare_ you publish photos of my son without my permission?" she stood and he shrunk away from her full height.

"Little bit embarrassing for young Draco to be seen with Miss Granger, is it?" Barnabus' voice was surprisingly confident.

"You forget, Barnabus, that my family is your major funder, and that you know _nothing_ about us," Narcissa hissed, lowering herself to his height. "If you even _think_ of publishing anything more on my family or Miss Granger, then I will crush you. Do not underestimate me."

"We can find other funders," Barnabus lied and Narcissa quirked her brow.

"No you cannot. You're turning the Prophet into a gossip tabloid, and my family and my family's money will not stand for it much longer. Either get some decent reporters and decent news, remove any trace of my family's mention in the slander you call news, and then maybe we will continue to fund you. If you don't comply, you will be even closer to the ground than you already are," Narcissa stood, straightened her dress and smiled placidly at Barnabus who was now very pale and very shaken. "Good day, Barnabus."

Barnabus whimpered in reply as she turned on her heel and marched from the room, ridiculously pleased with how the meeting had gone.

* * *

Hermione groaned, rolling over and burying her face in a pillow. The groan instantly made her headache infinitely worse and she reached up blindly to press against her temple with her hand in a vain attempt to soothe the throbbing. Altheda meowed from the foot of her bed and the sound made her head pound again. The light was invading the room and piercing the back of her eyelids and she felt like death warmed over. To make matters worse she was in a ridiculously uncomfortable piece of clothing that was far too tight to sleep in.

After coming to the realization that the sun would not go away on its own, nor would her pounding headache, she sat up. Her head spun and the pain increased and she could feel bile burning the back of her throat. In fast movements that surprised even herself, Hermione had dived from the bed and into the bathroom and was bent over the toilet, retching. When her stomach was empty she collapsed backwards, resting her head against the cool tiled floor until she regained her strength to stand.

She noticed she was still in her dress from the night before and blushed at the hazy memory of Draco helping her home. Wiggling from the tight garment she let it fall to the floor along with her knickers and bra and allowed herself a long, steaming hot shower. She scrubbed herself clean, shaved, massaged liberal amounts of shampoo into her hair, and it was only when she felt sparkling clean did she shut the hot water off. The water seemed to have washed away her headache, and Hermione felt much better.

She dressed simply in black yoga pants and a tank top and was soon curled in her lounge room, a book open on her lap and her hand clutching a cup of tea. She felt remarkably calm and entirely at ease and was having a lovely time reading about the use of dried and powdered gillyweed as an execution method in ancient wizarding Greece. That was until her fireplace erupted in bright green flames and out stepped a furious redhead, closely followed by her husband and their young son who was bawling. Apparently James Potter did not like to travel by Floo.

"Ginny? Harry?" Hermione asked once she had recovered from the shock of their arrival. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Sorry, Hermione. I told her to call ahead, but she didn't listen," Harry said quietly and Hermione frowned at Ginny who held up her hand to silence him.

"Why the hell didn't you tell us?" Ginny snapped, pacing back and forth in front of Hermione.

"Tell you what?" Hermione asked, closing her book and crossing her arms defensively.

"That you're dating _Malfoy_! I _knew_ it when he was here the other week! I can't believe you're dating him!" Ginny tossed something in Hermione's lap and the brunette realized that it was the Daily Prophet, which she had not yet had the chance to read.

"I'm _what_?" Hermione's voice was shrill and she had snatched up the paper. Sure enough, on the front cover, was a very large picture of her and Draco. Draco had his arm around her waist and she was leaning into him. From anyone's perspective it looked as though she was whispering something into his ear and his face was bright. She watched with a sinking feeling as her photograph-self leaned into Draco again and again, her lips parting quite close to his ear, and a smirk forming on the blonde's face. "But, this isn't true. Who would even-," Hermione was furious. She looked past the picture and found the article (continued on pages two, three, four _and_ five) to find that the reporter was Lavender Brown.

"Well?" Ginny's voice was impatient.

"I am going to kill Lavender fucking Brown," Hermione spat through gritted teeth, standing up suddenly and throwing the paper into the fireplace.

"How could you not tell us?" Ginny said. "Did you think you could keep it a secret forever?"

"What are you talking about? I am _not_ dating Draco Malfoy!" Hermione felt like screaming, but kept her voice firm and level.

"Then what the hell is this?" Ginny prodded a finger towards the fireplace where the newspaper was slowly curling and burning.

"I went to Paris with Narcissa yesterday and we went out for dinner. Draco was there, and I had a bit to drink, and he helped me get home. Nothing happened," Hermione tossed her hands up in exasperation and fell back into the seat she had been curled in.

"Why were you in Paris with Narcissa Malfoy?" Harry asked with a frown. "Since when were you friends with her?"

"She was one of the major donators to my charity before the divorce. When I came back into wizarding society she helped me avoid any horrid things people were saying. She wants to restart my charity," Hermione explained.

"Where was she in the photograph, then?" Ginny questioned. Her voice was still accusing, but less so than before. Hermione was relieved.

"She was walking ahead with a friend of hers. I suppose the photographer only wanted the scandalous part of the photo which just so happens to be Draco being a gentleman," Hermione stated and Ginny looked appease.

"Damn right I was just being a gentleman," came the all too familiar voice of Draco, and Hermione turned to the fireplace. His dishevelled head sat in flickering green flames. "Potter. Potter. Mini Potter," he nodded to the other occupants of the room. Harry raised a hand in greeting, Ginny nodded back and James cooed.

"Draco? What is your head doing in my fire?" Hermione had moved to sit on the floor in front of the fire.

"I'm at the Manor. I'm just letting you know my mother is on damage control. Father said she left in a rage, swearing to hex Barnabus Laphroaig. Merlin, I hope she does. That fat little man has done enough damage as it is," Draco's head shook itself in the fire. "I suggest you don't go anywhere near wizarding London unless you would like to be swarmed upon by reporters. Mother will probably want to visit as well, so keep your Floo networks opened."

"Thanks, Draco. Tell your mother that I said thanks, as well," Hermione smiled at the head in her fireplace which gave a lazy smirk back.

"Will do. See you around," with a final pop Draco's head vanished from sight and the flames returned to orange.

"Well, um, sorry for the misunderstanding, Hermione. I guess I was a bit hasty about it all," Ginny apologized sheepishly and Harry nodded along.

"Don't worry, guys. You had every reason to be suspicious. But you seriously thought that I would date _Draco Malfoy_?" she asked sceptically and Ginny's face turned as red as her hair. "Seriously?" Hermione laughed and Ginny nodded.

"Gin, James is getting tired. It's time for his nap," Harry reminded his wife, trying to comfort their fussing son. "Sorry about this, Hermione. In future I'll tell her to call ahead and think about things logically before barging through your fireplace," Harry winked at Hermione who grinned.

"Your impromptu visits are all I live for," she quipped and Harry laughed.

"Oh shut it, both of you," Ginny snapped, taking James from Harry's arms and stalking to the fireplace. "Twelve Grimmauld Place!" she cried out, tossing a handful of Floo powder into the fire and stepping into the green flames. Harry followed suit with a final wave to Hermione who shook her head at the pair and returned to her reading.

* * *

"Mari, I'm going out. I need to talk to Hermione," Ron called, his aggravation clear in his voice. Marietta could hear him stomping around upstairs as he got dressed and she held baby Rose close to her body, calming her. Ron's heavy footfalls sounded on the stairs and he poked his head into the sitting room. "I should only be an hour or so. You'll be fine without me, right?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, of course," she nodded vacantly and Ron frowned at her, reaching her in two strides. He knelt on the floor before her and cradled her face in his hands.

"You're okay, aren't you, Mari?" he asked worriedly, blue eyes roaming over her face to see for any signs of distress.

"I'm fine, Ron," she forced a thin smile and it seemed to appease him. He pressed his lips to her forehead and then gave Rose a kiss on the cheek.

"I'll be back soon. Don't you go anywhere," Ron said. She heard the front door open and close and then a loud crack as he apparated away, and then she stood. She held Rose close to her body and rushed up the stairs to the bedroom where she placed the baby on the bed. Rose gurgled when she was put down and Marietta couldn't help but smile at the sound. This was her baby, _her_ daughter. She had created this little life.

After a little bit of scrambling she pulled her wand from the top drawer of her bedside table and hastened over to the child, holding her wand in front of her. Rose gave a toothless smile when Marietta's face appeared overhead. Marietta extended her wand over the child and cleared her throat.

"Nomen vestri abbas," she murmured, pointing the wand at Rose. A thin blue light shot from the end of the wand, wrapping itself around Rose's body once before shooting up to hover in the air before Marietta's eyes. The light wound itself into two words, a name, and Marietta let out a little shriek, quickly moving her wand through the words to make them disappear. "What have I done?"

* * *

Draco was desperate for a firewhiskey. It was only three o'clock in the afternoon and he was rifling through the liquor cupboard, searching for the oldest vintage he could find. He finally withdrew the bottle and poured some of the dark liquid into a glass, collapsing into an armchair with it firmly in his grasp. He released a long sigh and took a deep drink.

His first encounter of the day had been with his old friend Pansy Zabini, nee Parkinson. The pretty Slytherin had turned up in his room at seven o'clock in the morning when he was still fast asleep, and had promptly decided to pour water all over him. He had leapt out of the bed immediately whilst she stood laughing, tears of mirth running down her cheeks. After he had cleaned himself up she confronted him with the newspaper. Pansy had raised a perfectly tweezed brow in question at the article and he had dropped his cup of tea.

Just as he had talked Pansy around about the article, confirming to her that it was all a lie but that he _was_ friends with Hermione, Astoria decided to pay a visit. His ex-wife was dressed only in a lacy garment that revealed more than it hid. She had flown into a rage at the article, saying that he was a filthy traitor for even _thinking_ about being with Hermione Granger. Then she had seen Pansy and had flown into a rage at her being there. Draco finally restrained his raging ex-wife with a body-bind curse before unceremoniously sending her, via portkey, back to her own home.

Pansy had laughed at this, putting up her feet on the coffee table, and he had scowled at her. Not five minutes later did his doorbell ring, and when he answered he was so furious he very nearly tore off the hinges. He found himself face to face with Theodore Nott, who had a disbelieving look on his face.

Six hours and eight visits later from Gregory Goyle, Blaise Zabini, Marcus Flint, Astoria _again_, Narcissa, Lucius, Daphne Greengrass, and finally a particularly nosy Lavender Brown, he was comfortably seated in his living room with his firewhiskey. He could hear Pansy rattling about in his kitchen, fixing herself a sandwich. She had stuck around all day, amusing herself by watching the exchanges between Draco and his various guests. Her favourite visits were from the Greengrasses and Lavender Brown. All three seemed to be dying to get close to Draco who could not be more repulsed. Pansy had been doubled over in laughter when Lavender had tried to seduce him into giving an interview.

"Drake, are you sure you don't want anything?" she called from the kitchen. Draco sighed at the shortening of his name.

"I'm fine, Pans. Just hurry up and eat your sandwich so you can go ahead and irritate someone else," he replied and took a swig of his drink, the liquid burning a trail down his throat. Pansy returned holding a plate with her meal and a glass of wine. "Yeah, go ahead. Help yourself to my alcohol," Draco muttered.

"Thanks, Drake. You're so sweet," she said in a falsely sweet voice, seating herself across from him in another arm chair. She lifted her feet and placed them on the coffee table. "You look tired," she remarked.

"No shit, Sherlock," Draco rolled his eyes and leant his head against the back of the chair.

"Who is Sherlock?" Pansy frowned.

"Muggle stuff. Never mind. Why are you even here?"

"That's not very nice," Pansy pouted, finishing one half of her sandwich. "I was bored, and I think I'm pregnant," she said nonchalantly.

"What?" Draco sat bolt upright in his chair, his firewhiskey swilling over the edge of the glass. He snatched the glass of wine that was halfway towards Pansy's mouth and downed it in one gulp. "What the hell do you think you're doing, drinking when you're pregnant?"

"Calm down, Draco. I was only joking," she said coolly and he scowled at her. "You know I would never have kids. They're too bloody sticky."

Draco snorted. "Good luck getting Blaise to agree with that in the long run. He's going to want the Zabini line to carry on."

"I've just told Blaise that if he gets me pregnant, he'll never have sex again. I think I've scared him off kids for now," Pansy winked and Draco choked on his firewhiskey. "Can you get me more wine? _Someone_ very rudely took mine from me."

* * *

"Ronald Weasley! How dare you say that! Why do you have everything against anyone I date?" Hermione screeched. She felt like throwing something at the freckly redhead who stood in her living room. "I have said _nothing_ about you and Mariette, so don't you _dare_ say anything about me and whoever the hell I choose to date!"

"It isn't just anyone, Hermione!" Ron bellowed. "It's Draco sodding Malfoy! This is the bastard who teased us all for our entire time at Hogwarts. He killed Dumbledore! _He killed Fred_!"

"Draco didn't do any of that, Ronald! He was just a kid! Voldemort was threatening to kill his parents if he refused!" Hermione replied angrily.

"So bloody what? He is _evil_. His whole stupid family is evil! How could you even think of dating _him_?"

"I am not dating him!" Hermione really _did_ throw something at Ron this time, a particularly heavy book to be precise. It hit his shoulder and he stumbled backwards. "And his family is not evil! I will have you know that they've put their prejudices aside and I am good friends with Narcissa. Maybe you should put your prejudices aside and take a look at yourself."

"Take a look at _myself_? Why the hell would I need to do that? I'm perfectly in order," Ron snarled, grasping the shoulder that had been hit.

"You're _blinded_ by petty schoolyard rivalry, Ron. You can't keep holding that against him. He's _changed_. You haven't," Hermione accused Ron who looked shocked.

"You're the one who seems to have changed, Hermione. How could you forget the things he's done to you? To _us_?"

"I haven't forgotten, Ronald. Not by a long shot," she admitted. "But I've forgiven him for some of what he's done. He was a kid. A dumb kid. You did dumb stuff when you were younger. We all did."

"Dumb stuff? Yeah, I hid my mum's wand as a joke a couple of times. _That's_ dumb stuff. He let Death Eaters into the fucking school! That's not dumb! That's evil!" Ron was yelling again.

"He is not evil! He was being threatened. What would _you_ do if someone was threatening to kill your family if you didn't do something?" Hermione demanded.

"Th-We-That's entirely beside the point!" Ron spluttered.

"You know damn well that it isn't, Ronald. You don't know Draco Malfoy, so don't you even think about making assumptions regarding him," Hermione said coldly. "Now, if you don't mind, I would really appreciate it if you would get the hell out of my house."

"Fine," Ron spat. "Have fun with your Death Eater scum boyfriend."

"He is not my boyfriend!" Hermione screeched at the spot Ron had just apparated from.

"Mari?"

Marietta froze over Rose's crib. The baby was fast asleep. She had been fussing since Marietta had performed the spell, and Marietta didn't want her to wake. When Rose was awake, Marietta's betrayal would be at its strongest.

"Coming, Ron," she called softly. She heard him grunt in reply and fall into a seat in the living room with a soft poof. She hurried downstairs and stood in front of him nervously.

"What's wrong, Mari?" he asked. He looked angry.

"I have something to tell you."

"What is it, Mari?" he stood, taking her hands in his own. She looked into his eyes and took a deep breath.

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A/N: I end it there because I am evil, and in all likelihoods you will have to wait until next week for another chapter. Well, if you piece everything together then I don't think it will be too difficult to figure out, but hey! **

**Next chapter there will be more Draco/Hermione interaction, don't worry! Also, I've put up some links to various websites of mine in my profile, so PLEASE go and take a look!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** **Wow. First of all, the reviews I've been getting have made me so happy. It means so much to me when you guys review, and it also made me feel so bad that I couldn't get another chapter out before I left. I had tried and was planning on posting one when I got to Sydney, but internet connection in the hotel I was staying in cost a fortune, so I'm posting it now. I would really like it if you could check out the links I have in my profile, as well. Support for my own fiction makes my heart soar, as stupidly cheesy as that sounds.**

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"Ron?" Harry approached the slumped over figure of his best friend cautiously. The bar stunk of firewhiskey, and the haze of alcohol seemed particularly strong around Ron Weasley. "Mate, what's wrong?"

"S'not mine," Ron mumbled, face down on the bar.

"What?" Harry propped his friend up and looked at him. Ron's eyes were bloodshot and his face pale. His hair was a mess and he looked like rubbish.

"Rose. She isn't mine," Ron grunted and Harry's eyes widened. He dropped into the stool beside his friend and took the firewhiskey away.

"Tell me what happened," he prompted and Ron groaned.

"I went to see 'Mione. 'Bout the article, y'know?" Ron spoke slowly. "Then I got home and Mari is just standing there. So I ask what's wrong, right? 'N' then she says Rosie isn't mine 'n' she had an affair. Can't believe it."

"Mate..." Harry didn't know what to say. Ron looked so despairing. His eyes were tearing up with his explanation. Instead of vouching for words, Harry wrapped a comforting arm around Ron's shoulder. "C'mon, mate. Let's get you cleaned up."

Harry threw some money on the counter of the bar and hoisted Ron to his feet. They stumbled from the pub and into the street where Harry fumbled for his wand and apparated them back to Grimmauld Place.

"Harry?" Ginny's voice came from the front door of their home and Harry grunted in reply, hauling Ron up the stairs. Ginny hurried out of the way as her brother was pulled into the house. "What happened?"

Harry dumped Ron on a sofa in the front lounge room and wiped his brow. "Marietta had an affair. Rose isn't Ron's daughter," he said breathlessly. Ginny dropped the cup of tea she was holding with a squeak. "The engagement is off."

"That bloody bitch," Ginny muttered, flicking the mess she had made away with her wand. She moved over to Ron and smoothed the hair from his forehead. "He just can't seem to do anything right, can he?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, sitting in a cushy red armchair.

"He royally fucked up his chances with Hermione, didn't he? And then he left her for Marietta, who isn't exactly the nicest person," Ginny explained. "I can't believe her."

"We should clean him up and put him to bed. We can deal with Marietta in the morning," Harry suggested and Ginny nodded. Using his wand, Harry levitated Ron up the stairs of the house and into one of the guest bedrooms. No longer was Grimmauld Place a dank, dirty house to live in. Ginny and Harry had totally redecorated, with the aid of Kreacher to remove any stubborn paintings. The room they were placing Ron in was light blue with a comfortable double bed in one corner. Harry let the unconscious figure of Ron land on the bed with a soft thump.

"I'll go and get a washcloth and some of your pyjamas," Ginny offered and hurried from the room. Harry sighed and peeled off the layers of Ron's clothing until his best friend was left only in a white singlet and red boxers with animated snitches. Ginny returned and threw a pair of pyjama pants at Harry who, with some difficulty, managed to get them on Ron. Ginny was sitting at the top of the bed, wiping Ron's face gently with a cloth.

When he was cleaned up they tossed a sheet over him and let him sleep. They would question him in the morning. Ginny sighed when they reached their bedroom, climbing beneath the covers.

"What happened to him, Harry?" she asked forlornly and Harry shrugged.

"He was always like this, I guess. He just hasn't changed. He takes rejection badly, and he takes being lied to even worse. He'll get better," Harry reassured his wife who had curled into him. "It might just take some time."

_

* * *

Perfect Family a Facade_

_Since our Golden Trio came out victorious in the war, it seems they have been flaunting their popularity and prowess, _writes Lavender Brown_, but it has been revealed that some of the happy lives we've been seen have been a sham. It has appeared Ronald Weasley's perfect life was not so perfect after all, however. _

_Recent news has come to light that Marietta Edgecomb, Ron's ex-fiancée, who has recently given birth to a daughter, was having an affair. The baby, Rose Cedrella, is, according to a source close to Marietta, not the daughter of Ron, but rather the product of Marietta's affair. _

_The couple were due to be married in an extravagant winter wedding in early January, yet the wedding has been called off with the truth of Rose's paternity. The only question that remains now is who is the father of baby Rose?_

* * *

Ginny rapped on the front door of the two-storey house and waited with her hands on her hips. She could hear footsteps approaching from inside and put on her angriest face just in time for Marietta to open the door.

"Oh, Ginny," the blonde said bluntly. "Come in, I suppose."

"Gee, your hospitality is simply _marvellous_," Ginny snapped.

"Well I don't particularly want you in my house," Marietta stated in a bored fashion.

"Then it's a good thing this is my brother's house," retorted the fiery redhead. "He wants you out by tomorrow."

"I have a baby, you know. I need to find somewhere to live before I'm dumped out of Ron's home," Marietta explained and Ginny narrowed her eyes.

"Why don't you move in with your daughter's _real_ father, rather than playing House with my brother? I'm sure Rose could do with the influence of her biological father in her life," Ginny said snidely and Marietta flushed with anger.

"What are you doing here?" Marietta ground out between gritted teeth.

"Just letting you know that if you even think to hurt anyone in my family ever again, I will do a lot worse than call you a bitch," Ginny threatened.

"I'm so scared," Marietta muttered. "And you haven't even called me a bitch."

"In that case, you are a bitch. Stay the fuck away from my brother and Merlin hope you aren't as bad of a mother as you are a girlfriend," Ginny said. Marietta looked taken aback and Ginny smiled triumphantly before getting to her feet and leaving the house, letting the door slam loudly behind her.

* * *

"Malfoy, could you please come here," came the impatient voice of Harold Beedle through the speaker in Draco's office. Draco let out a frustrated sigh and ruffled his hair slightly with his hand before pushing it back in place. He hated work at this point in time, and was feeling a strange longing to return to the wizarding world. He had read in the Prophet that there was an opening for a skilled Potions maker at the Ministry, something he was deeply interested in.

With another sigh he stood and quickly walked into the major office down the hall where a very unhappy Harold was seated behind his desk.

"Yes, Harold?" Draco asked wearily. He noticed one of his designs sitting on Harold's desk, covered in the boss' cramped writing which would no doubt be tips to improve upon. It seemed this was a bi-weekly occurrence. Draco would be called into Harold's office to have his designs slammed, and he would then crawl back to his own office in defeated spirits to try and mend his errors.

"What is this?" Harold asked, holding up the design for a telescope advertisement. Draco's original design was nearly impossible to see behind the 'pointers'.

"My design for the kids' telescope," he explained.

"No, it's shit. _That_ is what it is," Harold said, scrunching the paper up and depositing it into the bin. "Look, your work hasn't been at all up to standards lately." Ah, so this was where it was headed. "Or ever, actually. You may have been a big shot in your little hole in the wall firm before you came here, but this is the big leagues and you aren't performing."

"And yet Janet's pretentiously pink design for that new baby doll got in without a second thought? I thought you valued originality," Draco commented dryly, arching a brow at his boss who had turned a furious shade of red.

"Malfoy, your attitude and your work do not seem to fit in at all here," Harold snapped. "You have until the end of the week and then I want you out of here."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course. I'll be gone by the end of the day," he commented and stood, sweeping swiftly from the room. He felt a strong desire to throw something at the glass walls of Harold's office but decided the repercussions of doing so would be far greater than losing a job he did not even need.

Grabbing the few personal items he had in his office (a photo of his mother and a photo of himself and Pansy taken on her wedding day) he shoved them into his briefcase and walked with his head held high from the building, ignoring the looks he got from the other employees. He decided to take the train home, seeing as he had nothing left to do until six o'clock that evening and it was only ten in the morning.

Upon reaching his apartment he loosened his tie, shrugged off his suit jacket and propped his feet up on the coffee table, opening the Daily Prophet. His grey eyes widened in surprise at the headline which screamed of the relationship breakup between Ronald Weasley and Marietta Edgecomb.

Things were getting interesting.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy felt old.

He was only fifty, barely old enough to be feeling the ravages of age, and yet he felt so terribly ancient. His hairline had receded greatly and he felt the aches and pains of winter in his joints. His hands shook nearly constantly and pain shot through his back whenever he moved too quickly. He wished he could retreat from the world and lock himself in his study for an eternity. He wished he could go back to the past and reverse all the damages he had done. He wished for it to be over.

* * *

"Hey, Ronny," Lavender purred when she entered the hotel room to see him seated at the foot of the bed. She strutted over to him, swaying her hips elaborately and twirling her hair around her finger. When she reached him she straddled his lap and ran her hands along his upper arms. "What's wrong, Ronny? Aren't you happy to see me?" she pouted.

"No, I mean, yes, I'm happy to see you," he forced a smile at her. "Can I talk to you?"

"Talking? We've never done that before," she frowned but got off his lap.

"You make it sound like you're a prostitute," he noted.

"Whatever pays the bills," she shrugged and he looked shocked. He composed himself a moment later.

"Why did you publish that article?" he asked and she gave a melodramatic sigh.

"It's my job, Ron. I'm a gossip columnist. I write what people want to hear and guess what, baby? _You're_ what people want to hear," she said smoothly.

"But d'you have to make it sound so horrible?" he gave her a hopeless look and she rolled her eyes.

"Ron, that's what people want to hear. I'm simply giving the public what it wants," she said as though he were a fool, enunciating each word slowly.

"Whatever," he muttered and she let out an irritated snort. "Look, I don't really want anything from you today. I need to sort some things out."

* * *

"Fine," she snapped, standing up abruptly and smoothing down her near nonexistent skirt. "I suppose I might see you around." She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and left Ron sitting all alone, pondering what had become of his life.

Draco slung his thick black travelling cloak over his shoulders and stepped into the fireplace. He loathed travelling by Floo powder when he was wearing his fine cloak, but he also loathed the stares he gained from his muggle neighbours upon stepping from his apartment in the strange garment. Normally he would not even bother with the cloak, preferring to stick to simple muggle attire, but a gathering at Zabini Estate called for the finest wizarding attire.

He called out the name of his destination and the flames flashed green before he stepped out and into the parlour of the home of Blaise and Pansy Zabini. He dusted the soot off himself quickly and straightened his cloak.

"Draco," Blaise drawled from his seat at the head of the room, addressing Draco with a nod.

"Blaise," Draco replied coolly. The two had never been overly friendly, merely acquaintances, though their contact had been increased when Pansy had decided to marry the handsome Italian. "Where is Pansy?"

"She's still getting ready. The others should be coming shortly. Firewhiskey?" Blaise offered and Draco nodded, seating himself in a large and cushy armchair. Blaise flicked his wand and a large bottle of Ogden's finest appeared, pouring out two generous tumblers. One levitated its way to Draco who accepted the drink and took a deep sip.

"How is work?" Draco asked, detesting small talk but keen to break the silence.

"Busy. Pansy is lucky I managed to get this evening off. I'm meant to be working on a case regarding centaur land distribution in the south of England. The centaurs aren't exactly happy about us deciding where they can and can't roam," Blaise explained. He worked as a lawyer for the Ministry, dealing with the affairs of magical creatures. "How is the muggle place?"

"I got fired," Draco shrugged and Blaise's eyes lit up with amusement.

"What on earth for?" he inquired and Draco rolled his eyes.

"My boss hated me ever since I made my first secretary quit."

"Why would he hate you for that?" Blaise asked.

"He wanted her," Draco shrugged.

"Wanted her or wanted to fuck her?" came Pansy's voice as she entered the grand room. Blaise stood and swept over to take her arm, leading her to the couch.

"How crude, Pansy," Draco noted, not bothering to stand as etiquette dictated. He raised a hand in greeting instead and she mirrored his gesture with a perfectly manicured hand of her own.

"I'm simply saying that many men don't know what they want these days. They _think_ they love somebody when all they really want is a quick fuck, and then they're gone," she stated as she sat and smoothed her dress. She leaned over to an end table and pulled it open, withdrawing a cigarette and her lighter.

"Thank you for your informed view of the men of today's world," Draco retorted. "I'm sure you have so much experience."

"Darling, Blaise is lucky he managed to keep me still long enough to put a ring on my finger. I've been with more people than even _you_," Pansy grinned and Blaise blanched.

"As nice as it is to hear you discuss your sex life prior to our marriage, can we change the subject?" Blaise asked and Draco chuckled.

"Blaise, I'm surprised she hasn't given you a detailed, blow-by-blow account of all her sexual conquests. Or perhaps that was simply for my benefit," he raised a brow in Pansy's direction and she smirked.

"It was all I could do after you told me about your sex life outside of our relationship when we were together in fourth year. I still cannot believe you were going at it when you were _fourteen_," she said, taking a long drag of her cigarette.

"Hey, what can I say? I put a spell on those Veelas," Draco winked. "They may have been seventeen, but I guess I just manage to attract the older ladies."

Pansy let out a loud laugh whilst Blaise watched on with a bemused expression.

"Dear, who are we expecting?" Blaise asked when Pansy seemed at a loss for a suitable reply.

"Millicent and Goyle should be here any moment and Daphne said she may drop by," Pansy replied and Draco made a face.

"Gee, thanks for the invite to a married couples party," he said sarcastically and Pansy grinned like a Cheshire cat.

"Hey, Daphne isn't married. You'll have some single company," she remarked.

"As long as you keep a leash on the bitch I'll be fine," he scowled and Pansy once again howled with laughter as the fire flashed green. Millicent Goyle, nee Bulstrode, stepped from the fireplace closely followed by Gregory Goyle.

Millicent was still as heavy jawed as she had been in her youth, but her body had slimmed down somewhat. She gave a smile to the occupants of the room, revealing perfectly straight, white teeth before sitting on one side of the empty loveseat and fiddling with her hair which was pulled to the side in a long ponytail.

Gregory followed suit. He was still large, but more muscular than pudgy, and dressed in a sharp black suit. His hair had grown out and he ran a hand through it upon joining his wife on the seat. Greetings were exchanged and elf made wine passed around as the Slytherin group lapsed into easy conversation.

They were all still interested to hear Draco's explanation of the article involving him and Hermione, but he waved the questions aside. He wasn't exactly keen to bring that fiasco up again. They at a delicious meal, courtesy of the Zabini house elves and retired once more to the parlour at eight o'clock. Fifteen minutes later the fireplace glowed green once more and Daphne Greengrass stepped out, looking down her nose at everyone in the room.

Draco rolled his eyes in annoyance.

The Greengrass family were exceedingly wealthy, and Astoria and Daphne, the two daughters of Teague Greengrass, were pampered beyond belief. Daphne was beautiful, without a doubt, and worked as a model for varying clothing brands throughout Europe. She believed that because of her job and wealth that she was superior to everyone, though the Malfoy family vault at Gringotts held at least three times more gold than that of the Greengrass family.

"Daphne, how nice of you to join us," Pansy said, standing and kissing Daphne on the cheek in greeting. "No introductions are in order, but I feel another bottle of wine is."

Daphne perched herself in the arm chair beside Draco, fluttering her eyelids in his direction. He sneered back.

"Why so cold, Drake?" she asked, creeping a hand across to grasp his forearm. He pulled his arm away.

"_Draco_, Daphne. _Draco_. My name is not Drake," he snapped coldly.

"From what Astoria's told me, you used to _love_ her calling you Drake. Or maybe that was just when you made her co-,"

"Daphne," Draco warned her in a cold tone and she drew back, eyes twinkling with delight. "Your sister is as much of a cow as you are, and I assure you I only did what I did with Astoria to please the marriage contract our parents signed."

Daphne glared at him with cold eyes and he looked back without interest. After a few moments she let out an angry hiss and stood.

"I can see my presence is not wanted here by _some_ members, so I will take my leave. Thank you for the invitation, Pansy," she said coldly and stepped into the fireplace before anyone could stop her. Draco let out a contented sigh and leaned back in his chair, taking her absence as a chance to enjoy the rest of the evening.

**

* * *

**

**A/N: Hello, my lovelies. A short update for you, I'm sorry. I should get another update out before next Monday, when I return to school. Until then, review! And please check out the links in my profile :)**

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**


	13. Chapter 13

**WARNING: Mild smut in this chapter.**

* * *

"Draco, could you please come here a moment," Narcissa called out from her position in the sitting room of the East Wing and she pushed her parchment and quill away. She knew Draco was in the nearby library, so it was no surprise when his light footfalls reached her ears only a minute later. He raised his eyebrows in question when he entered, but made no move to speak. She rolled her dazzling light blue eyes and held out a piece of silver card to him.

"What is this?" he asked, accepting it cautiously.

"An invitation. It is your father's fifty first birthday two days before Christmas, and that is only two weeks away. I'm holding a ball in honour of him," Narcissa explained, shuffling through the stacks of invitations she had written in her elegant script. After many colour changes and card alterations she had decided on a simple design, echoing Slytherin colours.

"And you decided to give me an invitation why? I would have assumed my attendance would be mandatory with or without the invitation," he frowned, clearly confused by his mother's actions. She let out a mildly impatient sigh and returned her gaze to him.

"Of course your attendance is mandatory, Draco. I would not stand for you to be absent. I don't know how you could even think such a thing," she chided and it was his turn to roll his eyes. "You are to hand deliver that invitation.

He stifled a groan. "To whom, may I ask," he inquired, knowing full well the person it would be.

"Hermione, if you don't mind. And tonight, if it isn't too much trouble," Narcissa said, returning to the invitations. He took this as his cue to leave, but wavered for a moment.

"Is there anything else, mother?" he asked, almost immediately wishing he hadn't when her eyes lit up. She gestured for him to come closer and then issued him a demand which had him groaning in utter frustration. Sometimes he wondered if his mother was absolutely and irrevocably insane.

* * *

Hermione frowned when she noticed a figure standing on the front porch of her home, but she had not time to contemplate the identity of the mystery visitor as thunder clapped over head and a downpour started. Within seconds she was soaked to the bone and she hurried along the path and up to her front door, fumbling for her purse and flicking wet hair from her eyes. When she reached the patio she could tell her visitor was Ginny, but she didn't appear happy.

"Gin, what are you doing here?" Hermione asked, shoving her key into the lock and opening up the house. The two women entered and Hermione immediately cast a drying spell upon herself until she had returned to her normal, dry self.

"I came to talk to you," Ginny said obviously, making herself at home in Hermione's sitting room. "About Ron."

"Oh," Hermione frowned. "Tea?" Ginny nodded.

Five minutes later they were both in the sitting room clasping steaming mugs of tea and listening to the storm outside. Lightning flashed, momentarily illuminating the darkened street outside. It was all quite ominous.

"You've been reading the papers, right?" Ginny finally spoke and Hermione nodded.

"About Ron and Marietta you mean?" Hermione asked and Ginny nodded in conformation.

"Well, he's been pretty cut up about it all and he's been talking about you," the younger witch admitted, looking away from Hermione.

"What has he been saying?" Hermione inquired, still unsure of why Ginny was acting in this strange manner.

"He's been saying that he misses you," she said slowly before taking a long pause. "And that he wonders if you two might be able to get back together at some point."

Hermione felt the colour rush to her face and her hands instinctively moved to her hips as she stood. Ginny seemed to recoil slightly in her seat as Hermione let out an angry hiss.

"He said _what_?" Hermione demanded and Ginny shuddered. Nobody wanted to get on the bad side of an angry Hermione Granger.

"He...he said that he was wondering if you wanted to get back together with him," Ginny said in a small voice, reaching towards her pocket to clutch her wand. "Don't curse the messenger, Hermione."

"That bloody prat," Hermione snapped. "I need to have a word with him sometime about the fact that we will _never_ get together again."

"Look, Hermione, I only really came around to tell you that and then I said I'd be home to cook dinner for Harry," Ginny stood and started moving herself towards the fireplace. Hermione waved her away impatiently. "I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Yes, sure," Hermione said, distracted, but then her face softened. "Sorry, Gin. Go home and say hello to Harry and James for me. I'll send you an owl tomorrow."

"Sorry about my brother, Hermione," was the last thing Ginny said before green flames engulfed her. Hermione waved at the flames, a little too late for Ginny to see, before running her hand through her mass of curls. She was absolutely livid that Ron could think such a thing! He had cheated on her after pressuring her to have a child which she didn't even want!

What she needed at this point was a long bath and a glass of wine. She picked up her cat that had watched the exchange between Ginny and Hermione with bored eyes and carried her to the bathroom, placing her on the counter. With a flick of her wand the bathtub was full of steaming water and rose scented bubbles. Hermione was all too happy to sink into the hot water once she had stripped down. Her eyes closed and she let herself relax fully for the first time in a while.

Almost two hours later she managed to convince her weary body to move on from the bathroom and so, with great reluctance, she stood and wrapped herself in a fluffy towel before shuffling to her bedroom. She wrangled a pair of white knickers and a matching bra from a drawer and threw a short robe over the top before deciding to follow through with her other need of a glass of wine.

Upon entering the kitchen her plans were momentarily discarded when she saw an incredibly wet owl waiting impatiently outside her window, letter clamped in its beak. Hermione opened the window and the owl flew in with a soft hoot of thanks, deposited the letter on the table, and swooped back out. Thunder clapped outside and Hermione shrieked, hurrying to slam the window shut. She hoped the owl would be safe. Summoning a bottle of red wine, she sat at the dining table and poured herself a generous glass of the dark liquid, sipping it slowly. She stared at the envelope, on the front of which was her name scribbled in her ex-husband's untidy scrawl.

One and a half glasses of wine later she finally pulled the paper towards her and ripped it open, pouring the contents out and skimming the words. She felt anger boil up as the words bounced around her mind.

_...one more chance._

_I've always loved you._

_I didn't mean to hurt you._

_We can start again._

_I know you still love me._

_It's what you want, right?_

Her hand crumpled the letter up as the colour from the wine and her emotions rushed to her cheeks, turning them a flaming red. She flicked her wand and the letter set alight, Ron's words still replaying in her head. She clutched at the bottle of wine and the glass, forgetting any plans she may have had to make dinner. Instead she carried the two objects onto the lounge room, sat on the couch, put her feet up, and continued to drink until half the bottle was gone.

Having not eaten since half a sandwich at lunchtime, her head felt light. She was about to pour herself another glass when a knock at the door roused her from her plans for another drink. With a groan and a stumble she heaved herself to the front door and pulled it open, squinting into the darkness to see her mystery visitor.

"Malfoy?" she asked as the blonde shook the rain from his hair and sidestepped her into the house.

"I thought we were on a first name basis by now," he drawled. "Remind me to pay you visits more often. I love how you dress down for me." He nodded towards her untied robe, revealing her bra and knickers and nothing else. She felt colour rise to her cheeks as his eyes raked up and down her body approvingly.

"Sod off, Malfoy," she snapped, shutting the door. She walked straight past him and back to her seat, pouring herself more wine.

"Mature, _Granger_," he commented and she sneered at him.

"Why are you even here?" she asked, taking a generous gulp.

"You have no idea of how to truly enjoy wine, do you?" he said and she shot him a glare. "I'm here because that's what friends do. They drop in on each other from time to time."

"Not at nine o'clock on a Wednesday night," Hermione corrected him and he shrugged.

"How's Weasley?" he asked lightly and she flushed with anger.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she replied and he grinned.

"Word has it he's interested in courting you again," he waggled his eyes and she snorted.

"Ronald doesn't _court_ anybody. He shags them, sticks a ring on their finger and then either cheats on them or they cheat on him," Hermione rolled her eyes and Draco laughed loudly.

"Sounds like such a romantic," he commented. "I can definitely see why you went for him."

"Shut it, Malfoy. Now, is there any particular reason why you decided to turn up tonight, or will you leave me to continue abusing my wine?" she asked.

"I think you've had quite enough. Have you drunk that much this evening?" he queried and she nodded. "Have you had dinner?" she shook her head and he threw his hands up in exasperation.

"What?" she asked, offended.

"You can't hold your liquor when you have a full stomach, so how do you plan to when you haven't eaten? I am confiscating this," he said, nodding towards the wine. He pulled out his wand and conducted a swift Vanishing charm before Hermione knew what was going on, effectively making the bottle disappear.

"Hey! That's not nice," she scowled and he stifled a laugh. "If you're done stealing my alcohol and being a general bother, would you please leave?"

"Oh, I'm not done yet. My mother asked me to deliver something to you," he reached into his pocket.

"Are you her delivery boy now?" she baited and he handed over a piece of card. She accepted it and fell silent, looking at what appeared to be an invitation. The card was silver, shimmering delicately in the weak light of the room. Her fingers unconsciously traced over the elegant green script as she read what was indeed an invitation, though the cause behind the party shocked her. "Your father's birthday?"

"That's correct. My mother wishes to make it a large affair, and as her newest friend she wished for me to give you the invitation," he explained.

"A hand delivered invitation by Draco Malfoy. Most women would faint," she said wryly.

"Or scream with pleasure," he murmured and she glared at him.

"You're disgusting, Malfoy," she accused and he chuckled.

"You're probably the only woman on the planet who thinks that," he sent a wink her way.

"You're so full of yourself," she scoffed.

"I know," he replied proudly and stood. "Now, I'm sure you're enjoying my company immensely, but I must take my leave."

"I'll miss you, Drakie," she simpered, struggling to contain her laughter at his disgusted face.

"Mother will probably be in contact, or, seeing as I'm her little delivery boy, I'll see you before the party," he informed her and she nodded, waving him away. "I'll show myself out."

A moment later the door slammed, pushing with it all thoughts of Ron from Hermione's head. Her eyes drooped and she found herself crawling into bed, falling asleep to dreams of laughing grey eyes.

* * *

Draco was nearly running as soon as he had left Hermione's house. He needed to get to an apparition point as soon as possible. He had nearly come undone at the sight of Hermione Granger, the woman who he had thought of as a prude for their entirety of their schooling years, dressed in so little clothing. When her robe had fallen open upon her opening the door, he had struggled to keep his mouth closed at the sight which awaited him.

She was fucking _hot_.

He apparated back to his apartment, disregarding all worries about muggle neighbours seeing him wave his wand to unlock the door. As soon as he was inside he fumbled with the button and zipper of his tented trousers until he managed to free himself and bring himself to shuddering relief as the image of Hermione Granger, clad only in her knickers, burnt its way to the back of his eyelids. He felt like he was a horny fifteen year old again, wanking off to the sight of a scantily clad woman in one of those Muggle magazines Theo always managed to smuggle into the school, and fuck it felt good.

* * *

Hermione woke to blazing sunlight and let out a soft sigh of pleasure. She stretched slowly, letting the golden light bathe over her body. She rolled over, shocking herself slightly when she hit a solid figure in her bed. She managed to open her eyes ever so slightly, but they eventually widened when she saw a pale, muscular arm. The object she had bumped into.

She manoeuvred herself slightly until she could make out pale blonde hair and the incredibly relaxed face of Draco Malfoy. She reached out and brushed some hair away from his eyes and he scrunched them up once before they fluttered open.

"Hey there, beautiful," he mumbled huskily, gazing at her with one bleary grey eye. He rolled over until he was on his back and propped himself up on elbows, the sheet sliding down and revealing his perfectly sculpted chest. She fought every single urge in her body not to jump him right there and then as she crawled over to him, comforting herself with the fact that his warm arms were more than willing to hold her for just a while.

With her head resting on his chest and one of his hands absently stroking her curls, both of them bathed in golden sunlight, everything was so peaceful. She tilted her head and absently pressed her lips against his chest, sending a slight shudder through his body. Smirking slightly at his reaction, she leant down again and pressed another kiss, followed by another and another and another until Draco let a low growl out from his throat.

With surprising speed he was above her, looking at her with heated eyes and a slightly parted mouth. She lay beneath him, nibbling slightly on her lower lip and looking up at him innocently. In half a moment he had crushed his lips to her and they were lost in a tangle of limbs, groans, sighs and moans, the only other sound coming from the tapping of the bed against the wall with their movements.

_Tap tap tap_.

Hermione was writhing, lost in pleasure.

_Tap tap tap._

She let out a breathy moan as Draco did something that was most likely illegal in certain parts of the world.

_Tap tap tap_.

Relishing in the post coital bliss, Hermione wondered where the tapping was coming from.

_Tap tap tap_.

Hermione sat up with a start, kicking the blankets off her body which was now drenched in a cold sweat. There was no sunlight, no attractive male companion, and no mind-blowing morning sex. Instead there was the swirling grey of rainclouds, her cat watching her with beady eyes, and an owl tapping on her bedroom window.

She jumped up to let the creature in but paused midway to the window. Had she just had a sex dream involving _Draco Malfoy_? And a _great_ sex dream at that. She shook her head in disbelief. No, she must have been dreaming about another pale, fair-haired male with grey eyes. She let out a groan of realization when it dawned on her that the sexual partner in her dream was most definitely Draco Malfoy, and she slapped her forehead as though she could push the memory away.

Shaking herself again she let the owl, which was still doing that damn tapping, fly into her bedroom. The creature deposited a letter on her bed, quickly flying back outside and away from the keen eyes of Altheda who was watching the feathery animal. Hermione grabbed her robe which was slung on the dresser and shrugged it on, moving back to the bed. Her dream had woken her half an hour earlier than normal and she let out an annoyed sigh as she picked up the parchment which had been dropped off.

Once again she saw red, mingled with an unfortunately familiar script.

_Why didn't you reply?_

_...don't you get that I want you back?_

_We both know you still love me..._

_You can try for a baby again._

_...I'm doing this because it's what you want._

_Don't deny it._

The letter crumpled in her hand as rage bubbled through her bloodstream. Was her ex-husband really so thick as to think that there wasn't even the _slightest_ possibility that they could reconcile their relationship? The window opened with a flick of her wand and she threw the scrunched up letter out into the rain, wanting to never see those words again.

* * *

Draco stepped out of his parent's fireplace and fixed his surprised mother a stern glare.

"What did you do to me?" he demanded, pulling the book from her hands and crossing his arms. He stood before her, radiating power and authority.

"What do you mean?" a crease marred Narcissa's forehead as she frowned in genuine confusion, but her son ignored her bewildered state.

"You know perfectly well what I mean," he snapped, feeling his temper rising. Narcissa remained calm but did not answer. "Answer me, damn it!"

"Draco Malfoy, you will sit down right now and not use such language in the presence of your mother," Narcissa ordered, rising to her feet. She was an inch shorter than Draco but seemed a foot taller at this moment. He held her icy stare for nearly a minute before stepping back and relaxing into a chair. "Now, what on earth do you want to know?"

He once again folded his arms across his chest. "What did you do to me?"

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're on about, Draco," Narcissa stated truthfully and his grey eyes narrowed.

"Then why in Salazar's name did I go home after visiting Granger, who was dressed in no more than her knickers, and wan-,"

"Draco! I do not need to know about your gratification in that regard," Narcissa said shrilly, effectively cutting her son off.

"Why did it happen?" he asked again, his tone still furious.

"I do not know," Narcissa replied and he scowled. "Perhaps you are attracted to her." A smile played at the corner of her lips and her eyes twinkled.

"Bullshit."

"Draco," she warned and he rolled his eyes. "It is perfectly understandable. She is a very attractive woman, and you two have such a palpable air of sexual tension about you."

"You're delusional," he accused and she scoffed.

"Please, Draco. Anybody can see it," Narcissa stated. "Besides, now you might not find my second request so shocking."

Draco did nothing more than glare at his mother before standing and walking to the fireplace, reaching it in two strides, and grabbing some Floo powder. Once he disappeared into the green flames Narcissa shook her head.

"And I thought he had at least half a brain in him," she muttered to herself, returning to the paper.

**

* * *

A/N: Hello there. I like this chapter. I realized that last chapter there was no Hermione whatsoever, let alone any Draco/Hermione interaction, so I decided to treat you all with this one. I do hope you enjoyed it. If all goes according to plan I'll have another out by tomorrow night, but then you may have to wait until the end of next week as I'm going back to school on Monday. Until then, please review! I love your reviews. They make me smile like a lunatic.**

**P.S. To that one less than charming review I received (which also made absolutely no sense whatsoever), please kindly go away. **

**P.P.S. Review!**


	14. Chapter 14

Hermione folded her napkin on her lap and checked her watch with an impatient sigh. She only had half an hour left on her lunch break and Narcissa hadn't yet shown up. Ten minutes later she saw a flash of blonde hair and looked up expectantly. Her jaw dropped and brow creased when she realised who it was.

"Malfoy," she said through gritted teeth as her lunch companion sat.

"I believe that is who you were expecting," Draco said smoothly as he sat across from her.

"I was expecting your mother, not _you_," Hermione frowned.

"Yes, well, she's busy with arrangements for the party. It _is_ only a week away. So she sent me," he shrugged, picking up a menu. "I think I might have steak and kidney pie."

"Well can you answer my question?" she asked.

"That depends on what it is," he said and called the waiter over, ordering two steak and kidney pies. Hermione opened her mouth to argue but the waiter had already whisked away with their order.

"What on earth am I meant to get your father for a present?" her tone was one of exasperation and he couldn't help but smirk.

"You can't get my father anything," he chuckled. "He has the money to buy anything he wants, so people have simply given up on buying him presents."

"That makes it a lot simpler," she relaxed, thanking the waiter with a nod as he served their meals.

"What does your dress look like?" he inquired casually and her eyes widened. "My mother wants to ensure that you don't look a fool."

"Well, um, it's short and red," she said and he shook his head.

"Red? That won't do," Draco told her and she scowled.

"Why not?"

"Granger, you're going to a party full of Slytherins. It is not the time to display your Gryffindor pride."

"I don't have anything else," Hermione moaned, putting her elbows on the table and burying her head in her hands. Draco shifted uncomfortably as her new position gave him a perfect view down the front of her shirt. He struggled to avert his gaze, trying intently to focus on his steak and kidney pie but he couldn't help his eyes from flickering to the display in front of him.

"Um, well, err, my mother is having, um, Pansy around to get her dress tailor made tomorrow, if, err, you wanted to join them," he said hoarsely, keeping his head down. Hermione's head shot up and he was saved from the tantalizing view.

"What? Do you think your mother would mind?" she asked.

"I doubt it. I'm heading back to the Manor after this so I can ask her then," he offered and she nodded enthusiastically and then paused.

"Wait, don't you have to get to work?" she asked and he shook his head.

"I got fired," he said and her jaw dropped.

"What? Why? What did you do?"

"What makes you think _I_ did anything? Beedle had a grudge against me since the day _you_ quit," he pointed out and she shook her head.

"Why would I have anything to do with it?"

"Because he wanted you," Draco stated simply. Hermione made a face.

"You're disgusting," she said and he shrugged.

"It's true. Anyway, you should probably be going back to work, and I need to talk to my mother. I'll be in contact," he stood, once again averting his eyes as his heightened position enabled his view directly down Hermione's top. He cleared his throat and made a show out of finding his money bag to avoid the view at which point he deposited enough money for both their meals on the table and hurried away.

Damn Hermione Granger and damn her low cut shirts!

* * *

Hermione left just minutes after Draco did, hurrying back to work. She had gone fifteen minutes over her allocated lunch hour, but hoped Lucinda would not be angry. She had to request for the afternoon off on the next day so she could visit Narcissa. Luckily enough, Lucinda was arriving at the library just as Hermione was and waved Hermione's lateness away after a light chiding. The rest of the afternoon was spent organizing books and preparing for a presentation to a large group of young wizards and witches on the history of magical children's literature, something which would be taking place on Christmas Eve.

By five o'clock Hermione was exhausted and all too willing to be heading home after clearing with Lucinda that she had the afternoon off. Her boss was jealous of the fact that Hermione was going to what was reputed to be the biggest party since the war had finished, and let Hermione go on the condition that she gave all the details about the affair.

Hermione reached her home at five thirty and quickly changed into some more comfortable attire and sorted through her mail, both owl delivered and mailman delivered. There was a postcard from her parents who were vacationing in France for Christmas, some bills and finally a letter from Ginny, asking her to visit that evening, or at least give her a fire-call. Hermione sighed tiredly and decided on the latter form of communication, grabbing some Floo powder and waiting for someone to notice Hermione's head in Ginny's fireplace.

"Harry? Ginny?" she called. It was an odd feeling to be making a fire-call. One's head felt detached from the rest of your body and the rest of yourself felt unreal. Hermione waited a minute before calling out again, at which point she heard heavy footsteps that could not possibly belong to Ginny.

"'Mione?"

Hermione inwardly groaned. "Hello, Ronald. Is Ginny there?"

"No, her and Harry are at the park with James. They should be back soon," Ron said, sitting down in front of the fireplace.

"Okay, I'll call back in about half an hour," Hermione went to pull her head out of the fireplace, but Ron stopped her.

"Wait!" he cried out and she sighed.

"Yes?" she asked impatiently and he opened his mouth and closed it again. "What is it, Ronald?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime. Y'know, with me. There could be an us again," he smiled and she heaved a deep breath.

"Ron, that's not going to happen," she said and he paled.

"Why not? I know you want to get back together with me," he commented and Hermione felt anger rise in her.

"I have absolutely no idea where you got that idea from," she said coldly.

"Everyone can see it, 'Mione. That's why you still haven't moved on," he said and Hermione was genuinely shocked to realize he believed every single word which he was saying.

"Ronald Weasley, I absolutely do _not_ want anything with you. You made me get pregnant, and when I couldn't give you what you wanted you cheated on me with someone who could! How _dare_ you say something like that?" she shrieked and for the first time since their conversation had begun, Ron looked taken aback. "Move, I'm coming through."

Ron scrambled to his feet just in time for Hermione to step out of the fireplace and he instantly cowered.

"Now let us get one thing clear," Hermione began, pulling out her wand and pointing it at her quaking ex-husband. "We will _never_ be an item again. I don't know where you got your ideas from, but I most certainly do _not_ want you back. You cheated on me, lied to me, and then lost it when you found out I had the idea of moving on from our failure of a relationship. _I'm. Not. Interested_."

"B-b-but 'Mione-," he began.

"Don't call me that!" she shrieked. "There are no buts! I don't _care_ if everyone thought we would be together in the end! It is not going to happen!"

"You _know_ it will," Ron accused, looking triumphant. Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"Furnunculus!" she cried, pointing her wand at Ron so a jet of red light shot out and hit him. He yelped in pain as angry red boils appeared all over his skin, and Hermione grinned smugly, tucking her wand away.

"Hermione? What is going on here?" the concerned voice of Ginny reached Hermione's ears and she turned to face the redhead who stood at the foot of the stairs. "Why is my brother covered in boils?"

"I may or may not have cursed him," Hermione smiled and Ginny shook her head.

"Harry, can you come and help my git of a brother upstairs, and if you can, remove the boils. I don't want them bursting on the carpet."

Harry's footsteps, accompanied by the nonsensical gurgling of James, entered the kitchen.

"Oh, Hermione. Hey," Harry smiled, handing James to his wife and embracing the brunette. "How're you?"

"I'm good. I actually just came to talk to Ginny, but I ran into Ron and, well..." she trailed off, gesturing to the moaning figure of Ron who was clutching his face. Harry couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.

"Never a dull moment with you," he grinned before doing what his wife said and helping Ron upstairs. Ginny watched her brother and husband go with an amused twinkle in her eyes.

"You owled?" Hermione prompted and Ginny collected her thoughts.

"Right. Mum was wondering if you wanted to come to The Burrow for Christmas? All of us are going for the Christmas week, and mum wants you to be there. Just like old times, only with a hell of a lot more guests," Ginny laughed.

"That sounds nice," Hermione said truthfully. She loved Christmas at The Burrow. "I'll see what I can do. I'm going to Lucius Malfoy's birthday party two days before Christmas and I have a presentation on Christmas Eve in the afternoon, but I should be there for the rest of the time," she smiled and Ginny beamed.

"Excellent!" Ginny said. "Now, would you like to stay for dinner tonight? Harry wouldn't mind a catch up, and I imagine Ron will be too scared to come to the dinner table if you're here, so it'll be a nice and quiet affair."

"I think I'm going to have to take you up on that offer," Hermione said, holding out her arms to take James from Ginny.

* * *

"Hermione!" Narcissa said jovially, embracing the younger witch when she arrived at Malfoy Manor the following afternoon.

"Nice to see you again, Narcissa," Hermione smiled, following Narcissa through to the East Wing of the house. They came to a large set of grand white doors which flung open at their arrival and Hermione entered a room which reminded her of the bridal shop she had visited prior to getting married. The walls held beautiful gowns and a vast number of mirrors. There was a pedestal in the centre of the room and various plush armchairs scattered about. Hermione caught sight of a bottle of champagne and three flutes.

"Sit, Hermione. I will be back in a moment," Narcissa glided away whilst Hermione made herself comfortable, looking with interest when the older witch returned with what looked like a plain white dress.

"Where's Pansy?" the brunette inquired.

"Right here, Granger," said a soft voice and Hermione flinched slightly. She rose and turned to face Pansy who was the picture of ease.

"Pansy Parkinson," Hermione said.

"Zabini," Pansy corrected. "Blaise and I married last year."

"A belated congratulations to you, then," Hermione offered and Pansy smiled in thanks.

"Wonderful to see you again, dear," Narcissa said, sweeping over and hugging Pansy. "Pansy, would you like to get your gown first?"

After Pansy nodded she was directed to a small changing room and given the plain white dress. She stepped upon the pedestal and Narcissa walked over to her.

"What colour would you like?" the older witch asked.

"Dark blue," Pansy spoke, and as she did so the dress shimmered and changed colour. The process continued with Narcissa asking what cut, embellishments, and fabric Pansy wanted, followed by the dress morphing to suit her desires. At the end of the affair, Pansy was wearing an incredible gown that Hermione was sure would cost a fortune should it have been for sale in a store.

Pansy stepped down and changed back into her everyday attire, and then it was Hermione's turn. She changed quickly, but once it was her turn to decide on her dress's design, she had absolutely no idea what she wanted. Upon admitting this to Narcissa, the older witch brushed it aside.

"Not to worry. I have a few ideas for you," she smiled and Hermione let out a sigh of relief. Narcissa wandered around her, murmuring and muttering to herself. Hermione felt the dress shifting and changing until Narcissa clapped with happiness and stepped back. Looking down at herself and her new dress, the young witch decided she felt like a fairytale princess.

"Narcissa, thank you," she gasped, resisting the urge to twirl around the room in her new outfit.

"Not a problem, Hermione. Now, don't show anyone your dress prior to the party. I want it to be a surprise. The same goes for you, Pansy. Not even Blaise," Narcissa warned and Pansy nodded. "Hermione, go and change, and then we need to discuss other matters."

Hermione hurriedly changed back into her day outfit, desperate not to damage the incredible gown Narcissa had created. When she returned to the main room, the chairs had been moved around a table and the champagne flutes were filled with the golden liquid. Narcissa and Pansy were talking pleasantly as they sipped slowly from their drinks. Once Hermione sat Narcissa turned to face her.

"Have you found a date for the event?" the blonde inquired and Hermione blanched. She had forgotten entirely about bringing a date! Even if she _had_ remembered, there was no one she knew who she could ask. "I'll take that as a no," Narcissa said in amusement at Hermione's reaction.

"I have absolutely no idea who to bring," Hermione admitted.

"Not to worry, Draco doesn't have a date yet, either," Narcissa smiled and Hermione had to keep her jaw from dropping. "I think you two would make a splendid couple, and as it is too late for you to scrape together another date, I'll write to Draco and tell him of this arrangement."

"Draco will be pleased," Pansy grinned, trying her hardest not to burst into full bouts of laughter at Hermione's shocked face. Hermione was still utterly speechless. What about what _she_ wanted! She certainly did not want to go to this huge event on Draco bloody Malfoy's arm.

"But-," she began.

"Not 'buts', dear. Consider it payment for the dress," Narcissa suggested and Hermione let out a defeated sigh.

"Fine," she muttered, pouting. Narcissa and Pansy both laughed at this. The two Slytherins began a light conversation as they sat there, but Hermione hadn't the heart to join them. Instead she excused herself quickly after finishing her champagne and apparated home, tired and upset.

* * *

Draco knocked on the door, shivering. He had forgotten a coat and it was absolutely freezing, the weatherman predicting snow for the night.

They were three nights away from Lucius Malfoy's fifty-first birthday party, and the British wizarding world was abuzz with talks of the event. Many prominent witches and wizards had been photographed buying lavish gowns, and all sorts of rumours were flying about concerning the decoration, entertainment, and the ulterior motives of Narcissa Malfoy. Draco was at the centre of many of these rumours, with people questioning who his date would be.

He was currently standing outside his arranged date's house, waiting for her to answer the door. At long last it flung open and Hermione Granger glared at him.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she asked shortly.

"I didn't want this fucking arrangement either," he responded, pushing his way into the warmth of her home. She sighed and shut the door behind him.

"Why are you here?" she said, joining him in the living room where he had seated himself in her favourite chair.

"Truthfully? To apologize for my mother's terrible matchmaking skills," he responded. "She requested that I ask you to the party, but I had no intentions of doing so, and when that became apparent she took matters into her own hands."

"Why didn't you have any intentions of asking me? Am I not good enough?" Hermione asked, suddenly offended.

He sighed. "No, I just didn't think you would appreciate it," he admitted. "I was planning on going alone, but my mother insisted that I bring a date, and when I said I didn't want to, she arranged for us to go together. I'm afraid there's no backing out now, however."

"I know," Hermione muttered tiredly. "I owled her and asked if she could cancel our pairing but she refused, repeating that us going together was my payment for the dress she's made for me."

"Can I see it?" he asked and she frowned in confusion. "Your dress, I mean. All I know is that I have to wear a silver waistcoat because it apparently matches your dress."

"No can do. Narcissa told me not to let anyone see it until the night of the party."

"She was always one for surprises," he murmured. "Anyway, I need to be heading off to pick up my suit. I'll be here at six on Thursday to pick you up. Make sure you're ready."

"Will do," Hermione replied, waving him out.

He let the door close behind him and thanked Merlin that she wasn't just wearing knickers this time.

* * *

Hermione sat in front of her mirror, applying various potions to her hair until it fell straight past her shoulder blades. With great care she twisted it into an elegant knot at the back of her head, allowing a few locks to fall out and frame her face. She slowly curled them to perfection and let out a relieved sigh. A few charms later her hair was permanently in place for the night and she turned to her makeup.

A hint of mascara, eyeliner, light lipstick and eye shadow later, Hermione nearly didn't recognize herself. She looked at her reflection in awe, ridiculously pleased at her appearance. She hadn't felt this beautiful since the Yule Ball in fourth year, ten years prior.

She had taken the day off work and spent it pampering herself instead. She was shaved, waxed, moisturized and plucked to perfection. She had bathed in a hot bath with rose petals and essence of violet, making sure she was utterly spotless. She wanted to be jaw dropping at the party, and so far it appeared she was doing a good job of it.

When she was certain her appearance was perfected she moved to her wardrobe and pulled out the delicate, one of a kind gown she would be wearing. She placed the fabric carefully on her bed and removed her robe, deciding to go all out and feel entirely beautiful. She found her favourite (and most expensive!) lingerie and slipped into it, relishing in the comfort. She had never worn the garments before as she'd never had the occasion, but tonight seemed like the perfect night.

She heard Draco shuffling about in the living room, waiting for her to emerge from her bedroom so he could escort her to Malfoy Manor, but she was taking her time. With care she pulled on the dress, once again feeling like a princess. She placed her feet in her shoes, picked up her clutch and stared at herself in the mirror.

She looked stunning.

A moment later she turned and went to the living room, ready for the evening to begin.

**

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A/N: Phew. I hope you enjoy this one, as it may have to last you the whole week! Ron finally got what he deserved, so I hope you like that. I don't actually hate Ron. I think he's a bit of an idiot and I don't think he belongs with Hermione, but I actually quite like him. He just needed a bit of a hex in this story. Anyway, please review! I'm so happy to say that this is my most reviewed story, and it won't be finished for a while longer, so hopefully I'll have a hell of a lot more reviews before it's over.**

**Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed so far, or put this story on their alert or favourites list! It makes me smile each time I see a new notice about that! Please continue to review!**

**Also, I would like to remind you all that I have a few links in my profile! One of them is to an album featuring the outfits worn by many of the characters as well as character portraits! As well as this I have a couple of others that I would love if you checked out, including a link to my own fiction and one to my Formspring. Thank you!  
**


	15. Chapter 15

Draco was panicking slightly.

He was hovering in Hermione's living room, and had accidentally bumped into a small table. The consequence was that a small black machine, next to the telephone, was now whirring and had red lights flashing numbers at him. An unfamiliar female voice began to speak quietly from what he knew was the speaker of the strange box. He started pressing a series of random buttons on the machine, accidentally making the voice louder, making the box speak in reverse as well as faster, until finally he managed to make the strange machine stop speaking.

At this point he fell into the closest armchair, vowing not to touch anything else until Hermione emerged. Speaking of his date for the evening, she should have been ready five minutes ago. He cast a mildly impatient look at the clock that hung on the wall and tsked quietly. Just as he did so, he heard the approach of heels on hardwood floors and leapt to his feet, planning to chide Hermione on her tardiness.

However, all thoughts of chiding escaped his mind when he saw Hermione.

She was the image of elegance. She wore a floor length gown in the precise shade of Slytherin green. The material seemed to shimmer with the slightest movement, and was cinched at the waist by a silver ribbon. Upon closer inspection, Draco realized the ribbon was adorned with hundreds of tiny crystals. There was a thin strap which held the dress up and over her shoulder, accentuating her perfectly sculpted collarbones. The dress clung tightly to her figure and Draco sucked in a deep breath at the milky white skin of her breasts which had been pushed up lusciously.

After managing to tear his eyes away from the dress he took in the rest of Hermione. Her hair was beautifully sleek, but he did enjoy her unruly curls. She had just a light coating of makeup on her face and the scent of roses clung to her.

"I think I should take your stunned silence as a compliment," she smiled and he could feel his face redden slightly. On a Malfoy, all blushing does is make them look healthier.

"Most definitely," he managed to get out and suddenly remembered something. "My mother wanted me to give you these."

He reached into his suit pocket and fumbled about until he locked his fingers around a small box. He pulled the little box out and Hermione frowned at the slight rattle until he opened it, revealing a pair of stunning earrings. He smiled when she gasped, pleased at her reaction when she immediately bent forward and removed them from the box, quickly fastening them to her ears.

"Remind me to thank your mother tonight," she said, gesturing to the new jewellery.

"Will do. Now, shall we?" he held out his arm and she rolled her eyes at his gesture, but placed her hand on his arm delicately. "I have a car waiting out front."

"Magical or muggle?" she asked.

"Magical. No driver, similar to the Knight Bus in speed, only a lot less jumpy," he assured her when she paled slightly. He led her from her house and she shivered as the December air touched her exposed skin. "You should have a warming charm on you."

"I'm fine," she said, clenching her teeth together to prevent them from chattering. Draco opened the backseat door of a sleek black limousine that was parked in front of her house and she slid in, closely followed by him.

As soon as they were seated and their seatbelts done up the car seemed to let out a soft sigh before Hermione felt movement. The ride was smooth. It felt as though she was not even moving, and only when she turned to look out the tinted windows and silhouettes of trees did she realize the car was gliding along. The ride was spent in silence as Hermione watched the flickering trees and Draco, who sat on the seat opposite, watched her.

The realization really seemed to hit him when she felt his gaze upon her and she turned to face him, a small, distant smile on her lips. At first he dismissed his thoughts, telling himself that it was the tumbler of firewhiskey he had consumed earlier in the afternoon, mixed with the stunning dress she was wearing. His speculation was all dismissed, however, when she turned to him with that little smile.

He _fancied_ Hermione Granger.

* * *

Hermione was truly ecstatic about the fact that _she_ had managed to render Draco Malfoy speechless. He had gaped and gawked when she had revealed her dress for the evening. It was a fantastic feeling to know that she had done that to someone.

Now she sat in the car, looking out the window and occasionally peeking out of the corner of her eye at Draco who hadn't looked away from her since the car had started moving. She had to admit that he looked incredibly handsome in his black tuxedo with a crisp white shirt, black bowtie and silver waistcoat.

She had to admit that Draco was very good looking, even when he wasn't dressed up. He had grown into the pointed features of his youth, giving him aristocratic, chiselled looks. His platinum hair was always loose and slightly tousled, as though he had just rolled out of bed and dashed out the door. Even she had to admit it was sexy.

She shook her head gently to remove the thoughts from her mind, turning away from Draco fully so she could barely see his outline. She focused instead on the world outside the window, wondering where the car was. They seemed to be jumping around sporadically though it felt as though they were simply driving along a long, straight road. She looked out as they passed rolling hills and she could imagine their intense green during daylight hours.

All of a sudden the car pulled to a halt and she noticed Draco jolt sharply in his seat before shaking his head and looking away from her. She frowned but said nothing, unbuckling her seatbelt and waiting as Draco clambered out of the car. She fought back a giggle as he exited clumsily; he always exuded grace, so this scrambling was a funny change. He quickly collected himself and held his hand out for her to take, and she rose from the car, trying her hardest to be the picture of elegance.

Once her feet were firmly on the ground he began to steer her up the stairs and through Malfoy Manor. They went further into the beautiful estate than Hermione had ever seen until the sound of dulled music and murmurs reached their ears.

"Ready?" he asked quietly, pausing outside a set of grand doors. She took a deep breath and nodded. As she did so, the doors swung open. The chattering ceased and the music was turned down as Narcissa's voice sounded throughout the grand ballroom.

"Introducing my son, Draco Malfoy, and his partner for this evening, Hermione Granger."

There was a moment of applause before the music returned to its full volume and the talking restarted, this time with more fervour as the guests discussed the couple. Hermione was oblivious to the gossip as she stared around the incredible room.

Her first thought was that of the Yule Ball in their fourth year. The ballroom sparkled. Everything was silver apart from various green accents throughout. Hundreds upon hundreds of candles floated above the heads of guests, bathing them in a soft glow. An enormous and lavishly decorated Christmas tree sat in the far corner, reminding all that the holiday was just a day away.

"What do you think?" Draco's murmured voice sounded directly beside her ear. She shuddered slightly as his hot breath blew over her ear and he grasped at her hand.

"It's incredible," she breathed, gesturing to the extravagant room with her free hand. Draco still held the other.

"My mother always likes to outdo every other party of the year," Draco said smugly and Hermione nodded in obvious agreement. "Shall we mingle?"

Before she had time to respond he was leading her to Pansy and Blaise who seemed to be deep in a heated conversation. Hermione began to protest but Draco shushed her, pulling her further.

"Pansy, Blaise," Draco said smoothly, releasing Hermione's hand for a moment whilst he swept forward and kissed Pansy on the cheek and shook Blaise's hand.

"Draco, Hermione," Pansy nodded stiffly to both of them and shot a glare at her husband. Pansy looked beautiful with her hair piled upon her head in an elaborate array of curls and her face tinged with the aftermath of her apparent argument with Blaise. "How are you?" she asked stiffly.

"We're smashing, thank you," Draco said, returning to Hermione's side and placing an arm around her waist. She frowned at the intimate gesture but couldn't escape from his grasp without causing a scene. "How are you two?"

"Fucking peachy," Blaise muttered, turning on his heel and stalking away.

"Which poor Pygmy Puff crawled up his ass and died?" Draco said with a chuckle, but neither of the women laughed with him. Hermione was still admiring the decor and Pansy just scowled in his direction.

"Shut it, Draco," the latter snapped and it was Draco's turn to frown.

"Hermione, would you mind excusing us for a moment? I need to have a word with Pansy," Draco prompted, releasing Hermione who nodded. "I'll only be a moment."

"Of course, Draco. I'll go and get something to drink," Hermione smiled and stepped away. She wandered through the clusters of people until she found a floating tray of champagne. She had decided, after her various alcohol related public humiliations, to only have two things to drink this evening. As she reached for a glass however, a hand reached out and took her own.

"May I have this dance?"

* * *

"What's wrong, Pansy?" Draco asked, pulling her aside. She flushed and shook her head.

"Nothing. I'm fine," Pansy said, averting her gaze. He scoffed.

"Liar. If you were fine then you'd be on your third glass of champagne by this point and acting like a complete and utter prat with Blaise," he accused and she slumped her shoulders. "Instead you look like you haven't had a drop to drink and are arguing with your husband. What's wrong?"

"It's none of your business, Draco," Pansy was getting riled up now, her face a brilliant shade of red. She turned to storm away but Draco reached out and wrapped his hand around her wrist.

"Talk to me, Pansy," he demanded and she turned back to face him. Much to his shock her eyes were glassy and there was a tear rolling down her cheek.

"He cheated on me, Draco, and I don't know what to do," she choked out and fell into his arms. He caught her quickly, holding her trembling form against his body. "That's what we were fighting about."

He felt his body stiffen and anger eek through his veins. Nobody, and he meant _nobody _hurt Pansy. She was his best friend and like the sister he never had. Anyone knew that if they hurt her, he would be the one to deal with them and no one wanted an angry Draco Malfoy after them.

"Who?" he ground out when Pansy's tears had subsided.

"I don't know. I don't want to know. I just want to get the fuck out of his house and stay the hell away from him," she admitted, freeing herself from his grip. "He says it was a onetime thing and doesn't want us to break up over it, but I can't even look at him."

"Do you know when?" Draco asked and Pansy nodded.

"Ten months ago. I was away, visiting my parents. Draco, he fucked her in our bed!" her elegant face contorted into a grimace of utter disgust.

"Fucker," he muttered, running a hand through his hair angrily. Pansy had brought out her wand and was using it to fix her makeup which had run when she had cried.

"I'll deal with it, Draco. I'm a big girl now," she gave him a sly smirk and he couldn't help but return it. He was incredibly glad he wasn't in Blaise's position at the moment. Pansy was a revengeful bitch. "Now, you should probably go and steal your date back before Pucey gets his claws even further into her."

Draco spun around and narrowed his eyes. Adrian Pucey was guiding Hermione around the small dance area, his hands creeping further down her back.

"Just go for it, Draco. It's obvious you're smitten by her," Pansy said encouragingly. Draco nodded at her in farewell and stalked towards his date who was beaming at Pucey. Draco pushed down the vicious jealousy boiling in the pit of his stomach when Pucey tugged Hermione even closer to his body. As he neared the dancing couple the music began to slow, their dance becoming more intimate. When Pucey's hands trailed up and down Hermione's back Draco drew the line. He cut in quickly, pushing Pucey out of the way and taking his place in holding Hermione. The now alone Slytherin let out an angry hiss and turned on his heel, not one for confrontation.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Hermione snapped as Draco danced with her.

"You're _my_ date, Hermione," he retorted and she narrowed her eyes.

"_You_ were off with Pansy," she accused.

"She needed me to comfort her, if you must know," Draco said, his anger subsiding now that Pucey was out of his line of sight.

"Well you didn't have to be so rude about interrupting my dance with Adrian," she frowned, her brow creasing.

"He was _touching_ you," insisted Draco and her eyes widened.

"Jealousy isn't a good look on you, Draco," her brown eyes twinkled with realization.

"I'm not jealous," Draco said, a little too quickly and Hermione smiled.

"Yes you are. You're jealous that another man had his hands _all over me_," Hermione's voice was now low and right by his ear. His pants tightened.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he growled. "Pucey is vile and lowly scum. He shouldn't be sullying your dress with his dirty hands."

Hermione laughed loudly. "I'm sure that's it, Draco," was her response. The song came to its end and they stepped away from each other, Hermione starting to walk away. Draco wasn't about to let her out of his sights again and grabbed her hand before she could leave.

"Now, now, Hermione. You're my date. We're a _couple_ this evening," he reminded her and she scowled as he interlaced their fingers. "I won't go off and comfort any pretty girls if you promise not to go off and cavort with any less pretty males."

"Adrian is very attractive, I'll have you know," she said and he felt the green monster rear its head once more.

"Shut up," he replied and she laughed.

"Excellent comeback, Draco."

He glared at her and tugged her along towards Narcissa who was smiling at their approach.

"Hermione, you look absolutely _stunning_," Narcissa beamed genuinely, embracing the younger witch and kissing her son on the cheek. "You two seemed to be enjoying each other's company." Narcissa smiled knowingly and gestured to the dance floor.

"We're having a wonderful time, mother," Draco assured his mother who smiled again.

"Excellent! I'm so glad you two are getting along swimmingly. Now, if you would please excuse me, I have to announce dinner," Narcissa politely excused herself and drifted away towards the head of the room where she stood upon a little pedestal. She raised her wand to her throat and began, "Ladies and gentlemen, if you could please move from the centre of the room, dinner will be served."

Many of the guests were confused at this request and voiced their confusion as they moved away. Draco pulled Hermione back with him. She turned to face him in annoyance at his insistence but instead stumbled on the hem of dress and, in a spectacular display of clumsiness, managed to fall directly into Draco's arms.

"Smooth," he chuckled. He righted her and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close to his side. "We don't want you falling and ruining that pretty little dress, now do we?"

"I can stand perfectly fine on my own," she insisted but he shook his head.

"Clearly you cannot," he corrected her. He was lavishing in the warmth of her body beside his.

"You're bloody evil," she accused and he smirked.

* * *

Hermione knew she should want to pull away from Draco's tight grasp, but part of her wanted to move even closer to him. He was warm and gentle with even the roughest of movements. Instead of fighting to move away from him now that he was leading her to the extravagantly long dining table that had appeared when the middle of the room had been cleared, she leaned into his body.

Draco walked them towards the head of the table. A very sour Lucius Malfoy sat at the head, glaring at the other guests with disdain. Narcissa sat on his left and Draco took the seat to his right after helping Hermione into her seat.

As the first course was served, Hermione noticed that Pansy was seated opposite her, but Blaise was nowhere to be seen. Pansy's eyes were red-rimmed but she was smiling and laughing at something Draco had said. Hermione frowned at this but decided it would not be polite to bring it up in the middle of dinner. Instead she picked at her food slowly, not paying much attention to the conversation.

Her attention had been directed elsewhere, namely to the man she was seated beside. She could feel a strange surge of energy between herself and Draco. It seemed to crackle with movement from either of them, pulling them back together when either moved away. The energy was strange, and yet at the same time she was comforted by it.

She had danced with Adrian Pucey purely because she was by herself and he had asked her. He was handsome, as dumb as a doorknob and held absolutely no interest in women, but he had entertained her. Draco's reaction had surprised her but she had felt a flutter of _something_ in the pit of her stomach when he had pushed Adrian away and claimed her as his own. No matter how hard he tried to deny it, he had been jealous.

She let the rest of dinner (which was full of sumptuous delicacies and the best food she had ever tasted) pass by her without much notice, too wrapped in her thoughts of Draco. It wasn't until the object of her thoughts took her hand beneath the table did she begin to pay attention. She took one last bite of her crème brulee and stood with Draco.

"Where are we going?" she asked quietly as he led her away from the table which promptly vanished once it had been vacated by all the guests.

"For a walk. Mother wanted me to show you the gardens. They're absolutely incredible in winter, and she's placed a Heating Charm on the entire place so guests can go outside and wander," Draco said, giving her a lazy smile. He had released her hand and was guiding her now with his hand on her lower back. They exited through some side doors and into a stunning courtyard.

A large fountain sounded from the middle of the area, the trickling soothing. The rest of the courtyard was filled with an abundance of rose bushes in various shades of white and red. There was a lovely glow coming from the windows of the ballroom as well as many lanterns scattered about to give the courtyard a soft light.

"It's wonderful," Hermione smiled. "It's like a fairytale."

"What's a fairytale?" Draco asked, leading her through the courtyard.

"It's something that muggles tell their children. Like the Tales of Beedle the Bard," she explained. He nodded to show his understanding and they continued out and through the courtyard. "Is that a greenhouse?" Hermione asked, pointing towards a large structure about a hundred metres to their right.

"Yes, that's where my mother cultivates and experiments with her magical plants before putting them in the garden to make sure they don't overrun the place," Draco said. "Would you like to see?"

Hermione nodded in excitement and they changed their course. The glass house was far larger upon closer inspection. Draco unlocked it with a wave of his wand and they stepped inside. It was far cooler in here then it had been outside. When Hermione voiced this Draco said they couldn't adjust the temperature his mother had set or the plants might die. With another flick of his wand the room was illuminated and Hermione looked around in fascination.

She stepped away from Draco's guiding hand and walked along, examining each pot with varying degrees of interest.

* * *

Draco watched Hermione with great fascination as she perused his mother's greenhouse. This was her element. She could learn new things in here, come across plants she had never seen before in her life. He liked the fact that even though she was wearing an awfully expensive dress and high heels, she was not opposed to getting her hands dirty by examining his mother's plants. It was a refreshing change from the women he normally dated. Not that he was dating Hermione. _Yet_.

She turned to face him with a bright smile. "Draco, come here," she summoned him and he was at her side in two strides, examining what she was currently fascinated by. "Isn't this a yew tree?"

"A miniature one, yeah," he nodded. "My mother is perfecting growing miniature versions of all wand trees so aspiring wand makers can test temperaments and properties of the trees. She's already managed a variety of miniature magical plants for people who live in apartments or don't have room for gardens."

"That's amazing," Hermione murmured, reaching out and touching the leaves of the yew tree. It appeared to be at a state of being fully mature though it reached no more than a foot in height. "Your mother is an incredible witch."

"I know. She's created an entire range of appearance related charms and spells for minor alterations as well," he told her. "The dress that the one you're wearing tonight is one of her original creations. She's never been employed so she spent her free time pursuing a variety of things which interested her. She's utterly remarkable."

They continued to walk along through the greenhouse, Draco guiding her along until she stumbled in a little ditch. From then he insisted he hold her hand so she didn't fall over again. He pointed out various plants such as aconite, Devil's Snare, Mallowsweet, Gillyweed, and a Snarfalump plant which took a liking to Hermione and wrapped a tentacle around her upper arm. After a small amount of struggling she escaped, slightly more dishevelled.

By the time they left the greenhouse they were both thoroughly ruffled. Draco had removed his suit jacket and put it around Hermione's shoulders as well as having undone his bowtie. Her hair had fallen out of its up-do so it hung in waves just below her shoulder blades. Her face was pink and eyes twinkling with mirth. Their hands were still intertwined though she had long since regained her balance and neither was willing to let go. They walked for a while longer until they came to a little pond where Hermione stopped. Draco turned to face her and smiled.

She was looking up at the moon. It was due to be a full moon the night after Christmas, but the silvery orb which hung in the sky looked complete. Hermione was bathed in its glow and upon sensing Draco's stare she turned to face him.

"What?" she asked. He took a step closer until he stood directly in front of her, looking down at her flushed face. Without thinking, he lifted a hand and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, trailing his fingertips along her shoulder and down her arm. She shuddered slightly at the touch.

"You are beautiful," he murmured and her cheeks coloured once more. Her front teeth came out and bit down on her lower lip and she pulled her gaze from his, instead looking down.

"It's the dress," she said and he shook his head.

"Hermione, you're stunning even when you're just in a pair of knickers. Actually, _especially_ when you're just in a pair of knickers," he smirked, tilting her head up to face him with a hooked finger beneath her chin. She smiled slightly at him. "And the dress you're wearing tonight may be beautiful, but damn it, no one else could look as good as you do in it. You're incredible."

"Thank you," she said meekly.

"You're bloody welcome," he winked at her and she smiled up at him.

"You aren't bad either," she smiled and his smirk returned. The mood lightened considerably.

"Oh, I know."

"Your head could do with a bit of deflating, however," she commented, reaching up and tapping his temple. His head tingled where her finger had been.

"I happen to like my head exactly the way it is," he sniffed and Hermione laughed. "Do you want to go back inside?"

"I was thinking about sitting here for a while. It's lovely out here by the water," she suggested and before he could disagree she sat down, pulling him with her. He landed beside her with a dull thud and shot a glare in her direction. "Sorry," she grinned.

An hour passed with them sitting beside the lake, following any random strand of conversation that appeared before them. Before long they were reminiscing about their Hogwarts days and Draco was rubbing his nose in memory of the break she had caused in it in their third year.

"You deserved it," she said confidently.

"Probably, but it still hurt like hell," he retorted. "And I couldn't exactly tell Pomfrey that I had been punched in the nose by a girl, now could I?"

"What did you do?" Hermione asked, turning to face him. She had her legs tucked to the side whilst he lay facing her, propped on one elbow.

"I told her I went to go for a fly on my broom and when I opened the storage shed they all fell out on me," he admitted. "I don't think she believed me."

Hermione tossed her head back and laughed loudly. Draco watched the curve of her neck when she moved and how pronounced her glorious collarbones were. He wondered what the soft skin there would taste like and caught himself licking his lips.

"Looking back on it, maybe I _should_ have told her that you punched me in the nose," he pondered aloud. "Maybe then you would have gotten punished for once."

She frowned. "You _wanted _me to get in trouble?"

"Of course," he said. "You and your little bodyguards were always getting away with things nobody else could in their wildest dreams. You were always favoured by the teachers and you could probably be given a bloody medal for being caught sneaking about the school at midnight."

"It wasn't like we did that for _fun_," she countered. "We only ever did it if we were trying to do something _good_."

"_You_ only ever did it if it was for something good," Draco corrected her. "Your friends were all too willing to go on their midnight escapades for no good reason other than to brag about it the next morning."

"That's true," she admitted. "Then again, you were hardly innocent."

"Agreed," he nodded his head. "I was an arse back in school."

"What do you mean you _were_ an ass? You still are, when you want to be," she said with a smile.

"You aren't always a perfect little angel, either," he teased, reaching out and tugging a lock of her hair. "This is strange."

"What's strange?" she tilted her head in question.

"This. You and I acting like this. I never thought we'd be able to just talk like we're talking now," he said.

"It's nice, though, isn't it?" he noticed concern coloured his voice.

"It's really nice," he reassured her. "It's just surprising. I like it."

"So do I," she gave him a relieved smile.

Draco tucked the lock of hair he had been fiddling with behind her ear, and for the second time that night he trailed his fingertips down her shoulder. She let out a slightly ragged breath and began to lean closer to him. He mirrored her movements until he could feel her hot breath on his lips and moved to close the final distance.

"Hermione! Draco! There you are. I was about to send a search party out for you," Narcissa's relieved voice interrupted them, and they jumped away from each other quickly, their lips having only been less than a centimetre apart. Narcissa's step faltered for a moment. "I'm sorry. Am I interrupting anything?"

"No, not at all," Draco said hurriedly, clambering to his feet. He held his hand out to Hermione and tugged her to her feet quickly.

"Yes, well, everyone is leaving now. You two have been wandering for a while," the blonde witch's tone was amused and Draco's cheeks burned as his mother took in their messy hair and ruffled clothing. He would have to tell her later that he and Hermione had _not_ been participating in shenanigans of any kind. Much to his irritation.

"Shall we?" he suggested, gesturing for Narcissa to lead the way. His mother turned with a hidden smile and guided the way back through the darkness to the warmth of the ballroom. The Heating Charms were wearing off and he noticed Hermione draw his suit jacket around herself with her free hand as they walked back. It wasn't until she shook so violently with cold that he noticed the jolt of her hand in his did he release her hand and opt instead for pulling her body close to his own. She looked up at him, grateful for what warmth his body could give her, and when they returned to the ballroom they had their arms around each other's waists.

When they stepped into the sparkling room many eyes were upon their closeness, not to mention their less than pristine appearance. Draco felt his cheeks colour once more and guided Hermione past the staring and whispering guests. Hermione's head was down, her hair disguising her face, though if he could see it he knew it would be red.

"I'll apparate you home," he offered when they were alone and walking through the halls of Malfoy Manor.

"Thanks, Draco," she said quietly, shrugging off his jacket. She handed it back to him and placed a Heating Charm on herself before they walked to an apparition safe-zone.

"Hold on tight," he grinned and she wrapped her arms around him to give him a hug as he turned on the spot. A moment later they appeared on Hermione's darkened front porch and he realized it must be past midnight. He looked down at the witch who was looking up, past his face.

"Mistletoe," she said with an impish smile and he smirked.

"Clever, Granger," he said. "Shall we?"

She nodded and bit down on her lip once more before looking directly into his eyes. For the second time that night they leaned into each other, their eyelids fluttering closed when they could feel a crackled of energy passing between their lips. She was the one who closed the final distance and they pulled each other closer at warmth that trickled down their spine at the contact. Her lips were soft and she tasted of rose and vanilla. He wanted more.

A sense of urgency overcame them at that moment, and they clung to each other desperately. Hermione's hands tangled their way into Draco's hair, tugging lightly. He pulled her as close as possible, biting and sucking and licking at her lips like a starved man. She let out a breathy moan into his mouth as his hands trailed down her sides, pulling their hips together. Their lips separated and he nipped at her neck once before regretfully disentangling himself fully from her grasp.

Her lips were still parted and she was panting lightly. Her hair was messy, regaining some of its usual curl and frizz, and her face was beautifully pink. He smirked and brushed his hand down the length of her cheek.

"'Night, Granger," he said, disappearing with a crack.

**

* * *

A/N: Wow! First up, this is my longest chapter in this story: 5,466 without author's notes. I didn't want to break it up into two chapters, and I don't really know where I would have broken it up anyway. **

**Secondly, we're finally getting some action! **

**Thirdly, I have pictures for this chapter up in the link on my profile. Hermione's dress isn't the exact one linked, but it's the same shape and idea. Hermione's actual dress is one that I've sort of sketched out and designed a bit myself.**

**Anywho, please review! Also, if you would be so kind, please check out the other links in my profile (:**


	16. Chapter 16

After a long sleep in and an afternoon of playing with kids at the library, Hermione found herself waiting in the snow outside the Burrow. She could hear all the commotion going on inside from the numerous children which would be visiting for the "Weasley Plus Hermione Family Christmas" and she wondered if she should just let herself in. As she moved to open the door it swung open and Molly, looking as happy as ever, engulfed her in a hug.

"Come in, dear! You must be freezing! That little cardigan doesn't look very warm," Molly hurried her into the warmth of the Burrow. "We've got a new little guest bedroom just for you," Molly informed her and Hermione was shocked, but very happy. Last time she had to stay the night at the Burrow she was placed in Ginny's room with both Ginny and Harry. To say the night was awkward would be an understatement.

As soon as Hermione entered the living room of the Burrow she collided with something. Looking down she saw that Teddy had wrapped his arms around her waist tightly.

"Teddy!" she grinned, dropping her bag and picking up the blue-haired child. "You're getting a bit big for me to pick you up."

"No I'm not. Harry can still pick me up," Teddy grumbled and Hermione laughed.

"Alright, I can still carry you around if I _have_ to. I just need to make sure I don't hurt my back," Hermione grumbled and Teddy's face filled with concern.

"You don't have to carry me, Hermione!" he wriggled from her grasp and landed perfectly on his feet. "I don't want you to get hurt!"

"Such a gentleman!" Hermione exclaimed, bending down and planting a kiss on Teddy's cheek. The little boy's hair turned as red as his face did and he turned away and ran out of the room.

"I think he has a crush on you," came the voice of Ginny and Hermione looked up to see her smiling best friend.

"I don't think I'm supposed to know that," Hermione said.

"Probably not," Ginny shrugged. "C'mon, I'll take you to the new guest room. Percy got a raise and decided he hadn't finished paying Mum and Dad back for how much of a wanker he was in the war, and built them the guest room. It's pretty nice, actually."

Ginny opened a new door which Hermione had never seen before and they entered into a light, spacious bedroom. Hermione looked around, impressed. The floor was light wood and the walls were white, and there was a large bed and closet.

"It's lovely. I'll have to thank your parents for letting me break it in," Hermione dumped her bag on the bed.

"Oh, don't bother. They've been dying to have someone use it, and you were the perfect excuse," Ginny plopped down on the bed beside Hermione's bag. "So, tell me everything."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Hermione feigned innocence and began unpacking, turning away from Ginny.

"Don't give me that, Hermione. You look like you've been recently shagged."

Hermione dropped the pair of knickers she was holding and blushed. "Not shagged, just very thoroughly snogged," she admitted and Ginny let out a squeal. Hermione felt like she was fifteen again.

"Who was it?" the redhead demanded, leaping from her spot on the bed and hurrying to Hermione's side. Hermione said nothing, instead pressing a finger against her lips in secret. "That's not fair!" Ginny whined.

"If I tell you then you have to _promise_ not to tell anybody, okay?" Hermione conceded defeat, leading her friend back to the bed. "Especially not Ronald."

"Holy shit, you snogged Malfoy!" Ginny exclaimed, jumping up from the bed, her eyes wide with excitement.

"Keep it down!" Hermione dragged Ginny back into a sitting position and then sighed. She was baffled by her friend's powers of deduction. "Yes. I snogged Draco Malfoy. Satisfied?"

"No, not yet," Ginny shook her head. "How was it?"

"You are ridiculous," Hermione shot her friend a glare and Ginny grinned. "At least you're taking it better than I thought you would. Don't you hate Draco?"

"Ooh, it's _Draco_ now, is it?" Ginny's grin widened, only to falter when Hermione tossed a pillow in her face. "I don't hate Malfoy. I just have a strong aversion to him."

"And yet you nearly ripped my head off when you thought I was dating him," Hermione stated dryly.

"_That_ incident was more because I found out through the Prophet, whereas now I'm fairly certain I'm the first person you've told," Ginny explained. "Would I be correct in that assumption?"

Hermione nodded. She had told Lucinda everything about the party, other than the extensive amount of alone time she had spent with Draco, and they had been far too busy dealing with a child who was making a stack of ancient books levitate to breach the topic anyway. "You have to promise you won't tell anyone," Hermione warned.

"I swear," Ginny nodded solemnly. "_Draco Malfoy_. You of all people macking on with Draco Malfoy! It's ridiculous."

"Shut it, you," Hermione said as she attacked Ginny with another pillow. "Anyway, let's go and get the meet-and-greets over with." Ginny's face paled. "What is it, Gin?"

"Charlie," Ginny said quietly and Hermione paled as well. "He'll be arriving just before dinner. What are you going to say, Hermione? He still wants you, and he will _not_ like the fact that you kissed Malfoy."

"I know, I know!" Hermione tossed her hands in exasperation. "But he left _me_, remember? I wanted him, and he left."

"He had to, Hermione. His job is in Romania, and now that his contract is up he said he was willing to give it all up for you," Ginny said and Hermione buried her face in her hands. "What about we cross that bridge when we come to it? Sound good?"

"I suppose," Hermione's voice was muffled by her hands but she heaved a sigh and got to her feet. "Let's go and see if your mum wants help with dinner. Maybe I can avoid talking to him privately until after dinner."

Ginny stood up and they left the bedroom quietly, returning to the main house where Teddy was playing with Victorie and Fred Jr. Hermione could hear Victorie and Fred laughing as Teddy changed his appearance at will as they passed into the kitchen where Molly was bustling about as she prepared dinner. The elder witch shooed them out of the kitchen, claiming dinner would be ready in a few minutes and she didn't need any more distractions, instead sending them to round up the family for dinner.

Five minutes later all eighteen guests were assembled around the magically extended table in the dining room. The noise was deafening and, much to Hermione's dismay, she found herself wedged between Charlie and Fleur. Fleur was turned away from her, focusing all of her attentions on Victorie which left Hermione at the mercy of Charlie.

All was going well until she moved on from her roast potatoes and began to cut into her turkey. All of a sudden she felt a hand grasp her knee and she leapt an inch off her chair, dropping her fork with a clatter. Luckily the sound was not heard over the racket the other guests were making. Shooting a glare to her left, to Charlie, she was faced with the unsure face of the redhead. He had cocked his head to one side and was observing her with questioning eyes. She took a deep breath and shook her head, purposefully moving his hand off her knee. The look in his eyes was almost enough for her to put it back there.

She offered no explanation to Charlie, instead stabbing her turkey quite violently with her fork and remaining tight-lipped for the rest of the meal. Once dessert had been cleared and everyone was feeling rather warm and full the guests dispersed. Bill carried Victorie to bed, the little girl having fallen asleep in her Christmas cake, and he was closely followed by George who lugged Fred upstairs. Most of the others went to the living room and after Hermione helped Arthur and Molly clear the table she joined the others.

A fire was blazing, bathing the room in a cheering orange glow. It matched perfectly with the loud conversations and music playing from the wireless. Even Hermione found herself getting rather involved in a discussion about Quidditch; the atmosphere was magnetic. Molly brought out a tray cluttered with mugs of steaming hot chocolate and not long after Teddy excitedly pointed out snow which was beginning to fall outside. It was a very cozy affair. By eleven o'clock Teddy had curled up on the floor and was snoring lightly, Ginny's head was lolling on Harry's shoulder, and Bill, Fleur, Molly and Arthur had already retired for the evening. Harry gently woke Ginny and sent her off to bed before carting Teddy to his bedroom, and they were closely followed by Percy and his wife, Audrey.

Soon Hermione and Charlie were the only two remaining and the once cozy atmosphere was replaced by a tense silence. Hermione cleared her throat and Charlie looked at her expectantly, his expression only to fall when the silence returned.

"So..." he eventually began when the quiet grew too much for them. "You met someone else."

Hermione's jaw dropped at his statement. Had she _implied_ anything during the course of the evening to make Charlie come to that assumption? Surely not! She had kept her personal life out of the evening's discussions. A few moments later she remembered their exchange at dinner and sighed. "Charlie, look-," she began.

"Wait, Hermione," Charlie held up his hand to silence her. "I know I left you and it was wrong of me to expect that you wouldn't move on in my three month absence, but if you still want me then I'm here to stay. So I want you to answer me this: is there someone else or do you want to try us?"

"I don't know," Hermione said truthfully.

"You don't know if you want to try us or you don't know if there's someone else?" Charlie posed the question. "You sure aren't making this easy," he added with a small smile, one she felt compelled to return.

"I don't know if there is someone else or not," she clarified. "Something has happened with somebody, but I'm not sure where we stand at the moment. I would rather we cleared it up before I launched headfirst into a relationship, or anything for that matter."

"So we're on pause?" Charlie asked and she nodded.

"In a way. I don't know if we're going to start, to be honest," she shrugged. "I'm sorry."

Much to her surprise, Charlie laughed. "What on earth do you have to be sorry for? Hermione, I'm the one who left you and expected you to wait around. Besides, there are plenty more fish in the sea for me to catch in my net," he winked. "I suppose I'll just have to keep on fishing."

"I suppose so," she agreed. "Thanks for not making a huge deal out of this."

"Not a problem," Charlie smiled. "Anyway, I think I'm going to turn in for the night, seeing as it's nearly Christmas day. I'll see you in the morning, Hermione."

Hermione waved Charlie away and sat in front of the dying embers of the fire for a few more minutes before letting out a relieved sigh and dragging herself to bed.

* * *

Hermione sat bolt upright, reaching for her wand which lay on the bedside table. Her eyes snapped to the large brown ones which looked directly into her own and she relaxed, dropping the wand beside her.

"Teddy?" she croaked out, voice laden with sleep. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong!" the boy beamed, his hair changing colour until it was bright blue, a colour they had grown to associate with excitement. "It's Christmas!"

Hermione glanced at the clock and stifled a groan. It was certainly Christmas, but it had only been so for four and a half hours. She deduced that was also the amount of sleep she had gotten. "Is everyone else up?"

"The others are waking them up. I wanted to wake _you_ up, though," Teddy grinned. "Now, _come on_!"

Fighting the urge to collapse back onto the pillows, Hermione stood and grabbed a dressing gown, wrapping it tightly around herself. She gestured for Teddy to lead the way and the boy obliged, running ahead of her and skidding into the living room where he got on his knees in front of the large Christmas tree. Hermione's eyebrows lifted at the huge pile of presents that was beneath the tree.

The others shuffled into the room a few seconds later, all of them mumbling and groaning as the children tugged them along. Molly moved past them all and into the kitchen, returning five minutes later with mugs of tea for all of the adults. Once everyone was settled and perking up over the hot drink the children were allowed to start opening their presents. They all tore into them eagerly.

The most entertaining reaction of the children belonged to Teddy when he opened his biggest present, a gift from Harry and Ginny. It had appeared to just be a long box wrapped in delicate silver paper, but Harry warned his godson to be careful with it. Nodding solemnly, Teddy slowly pulled the paper off until the present beneath was revealed. His eyes, now a shade of blue to match his hair, widened with shock and his jaw dropped. They had bought him a child-size version of the Thunderstrike 1000, the latest, fastest broom on the market.

As soon as he had pulled the broom out of the box he let out a shriek of delight and was about to climb on it when Harry caught him by the back of his shirt.

"Maybe it isn't a good idea for you to fly inside, Ted," Harry said, carefully prising the broom from the seven year old who had his eager fingers clasped around it. "I'll take you flying after breakfast, alright?"

Teddy pouted but nodded and the adults all laughed causing his hair to turn red from embarrassment.

Once the children had opened all of their presents the adults each received a smaller pile of gifts. Hermione, as usual, received a variety of books from her friends and family, both muggle and wizarding alike. She also received a rather raunchy set of lingerie from Ginny which caused her to blush like mad and quickly shrink the box and hide it in her dressing gown. Her last present was a small, rectangular box which she almost didn't notice.

Hermione reached out, grasping the box with a frown. There was no note, unlike the other presents which she had received. Carefully removing the purple tissue paper from the package she was left with a light blue box. Upon opening this she was greeted with the sight of the most delicately beautiful necklace she had laid her eyes on. It was silver though mainly comprised of diamonds which shone beautifully. The design was simple and would only hang to the hollow below her throat. It was elegant but not showy.

"Who sent you _that_?" Ginny asked, peering over Hermione's shoulder at the piece of jewellery. "Was there a note?"

"No, nothing like that," Hermione frowned, tracing her fingers over the diamonds carefully.

"I have a guess of who sent it," Ginny said quietly so only Hermione could hear, the redhead wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. Hermione fought the urge to hex her best friend, instead contenting herself with a light slap to the back of Ginny's head. "Ow, you're mean," Ginny complained. "Put it on."

Sighing, Hermione removed the necklace and carefully clipped it on. She stood and walked over to the mirror to see how it sat on her. She could not help put think it suited her perfectly. Ginny agreed and they both discussed who the mystery sender could be. Hermione instantly dismissed the idea of Draco sending her the necklace, much to Ginny's annoyance.

At six o'clock the members in the room dispersed to go and get changed whilst Molly banged around the kitchen as she prepared breakfast for everyone. Thirty minutes later everyone had squeezed their way around the dining table, the children constantly fidgeting and fussing, eager to go and play with their new presents. By seven thirty the men, joined by Teddy, Ginny and Angelina were all suited up and ready to go flying despite the snow. Hermione declined the offer, shuddering at her fear of heights.

As Audrey chose to help Molly prepare lunch for the family, Hermione opted to stay by the fire and read a book. The flames crackled merrily as she curled up in an armchair in her snug blue sweater, knitted by Molly and featuring a large 'H' in the centre, and flipped open her book. By eleven o'clock she was halfway through the text on Goblin Rights and she closed the heavy tome, stretching out luxuriously. She was in such a position that the sun shone directly onto her, emphasizing the warmth from the fire.

Just as she was about to rise, the door clattered open and the flyers trudged in, dragging snow through with them. Molly came rushing in, clucking her tongue at the mess they made and promising hot chocolate for everyone. Teddy was the last inside, his face flushed from the cold and his hair blue from excitement.

"Hermione! I flew, Hermione! I _flew_!" he beamed once he had changed into dry clothes and joined her on her lap. "Can you believe it? I went up _so_ high! It was so much fun!"

"Good work, Teddy. Do you think you'll play Quidditch when you're older?" Hermione cuddled the boy to her and he nodded.

"Totally! I want to be a Seeker like Harry," he grinned.

As he finished speaking a huge silver dragon burst through the window, coming to a stop in front of Hermione. Teddy mumbled an awed "Wow, cool!" before the Patronus opened its mouth and Draco's voice came out.

"Hermione, if you're here, I'm waiting outside to wish you a merry Christmas," the voice said before the dragon disappeared into thin air. Hermione smiled and Teddy looked up at her curiously.

"What _was_ that?" the little boy asked.

"A Patronus. Difficult magic, but I'm sure you'll learn it when you're older," Hermione explained kindly. "Say Teddy, do you want to come and visit a friend with me? He's just outside."

"Is he the one who made the cool dragon?"

"He certainly is, and I think he would like to meet you," Hermione said, figuring that Draco might be interested in meeting his cousin, particularly seeing as Teddy was a fascinating boy. Besides, it seemed as though Teddy was intent on staying with her for the rest of the day, or at least until he was allowed to go flying again. "Come on, he's outside. We'll get your jacket on and go and see him."

Once they were both warmly dressed she led Teddy outside and along the front path, trudging through the snow. Hermione shivered as the wind blew and she looked up to the swirling grey sky, knowing they were due for more snow. She felt Teddy's grip tighten on her hand and she looked down at him, noticing white blonde hair and big grey eyes when he looked back at her – he looked exactly like Draco would have at that age. Hermione returned her eyes to the path and found that Draco was indeed standing only two metres away.

"Hey," she smiled when they reached him. It was an awkward moment. Neither knew quite how to greet each other. Draco leaned in to kiss her lips whilst she leaned in to peck his cheek. They both stalled and pulled back, blushing, until they settled on an awkward one-armed hug.

"Merry Christmas," Draco offered. "I see you got my gift," he nodded to the diamond necklace.

"_You_ sent it?" she asked, shocked. "I should have gotten you something more than that French cologne."

"Nonsense, it was my pleasure," Draco waved it away. "Who is this?"

"Draco, this is Teddy Lupin," Hermione said, letting go of the boy's hand as Draco dropped down until they were eye-to-eye.

"Hello, Teddy," Draco held out his hand and Teddy shook it. "I didn't realize you would look just like me." He said it seriously but Hermione saw a twinkle in his eye.

"I don't look like _you_," Teddy explained, shaking his head so his hair turned brown and his eyes green.

"So you're a Metamorphagus?" Draco asked and Teddy nodded proudly. "That's pretty cool."

"_Duh_," Teddy mumbled, rolling his eyes.

"Ted, be polite," Hermione scolded the boy and his hair turned red as he muttered and apology. "Sorry about him. He isn't good with new people."

Draco returned to his normal height. "Forget it. I'm used to that attitude from people five times his age," he shrugged. "Comes with the territory, I guess." She noticed his right hand move slightly towards his left forearm but the action disappeared in less than a second.

"Right. Sorry," she shook her head. "That was dumb of me."

"Why do you do that?" he frowned.

"Do what?"

"Apologize. You do it a lot," the crease in his forehead deepened slightly. "Why?"

"Nervous habit?" she guessed. "I don't know, it just happens. I've never really noticed it."

"Apologizing is a sign of weakness," Draco pointed out.

"Or you can be being polite," she replied and looked down at Teddy who was shuffling around impatiently. "Ted, you can go back to the house, okay? If anyone asks, tell them I've just gone for a walk."

Teddy nodded and let go of Hermione's hand. He looked back at Draco, his hair changing back to platinum blonde, and ran back inside.

"So now you're lying about seeing me?" Draco asked with a smirk. "Am I that much of a dirty little secret?"

"No, not really," she shrugged. "But the Weasley men would probably crucify you if they saw you here. My ex-husband is in there, actually. Well, he _is_ acting decidedly sheepish and terrified of me, but I think he would still jump to my protection if a dirty Slytherin were to try and hurt me."

"Dirty Slytherin? You wound me, Granger," he sighed.

"Why do you even call me that? I thought you were the one who insisted on us being on a first name basis," she pointed out.

"True. But Granger is a lot fierier than Hermione. It suits you better."

"And if I get remarried?"

"You'll always be Granger to me," he shrugged.

"How touching."

"I like to think so," Draco grinned. "So, having a happy little Christmas?"

"Yes, it's quite nice. I've already had the awkward relationship talk with Charlie," she explained, wrapping her arms around herself to keep in the warmth. As she did so, she noticed Draco stiffen slightly.

"Oh? And what exactly did you tell him?" his voice was strained.

"That I don't know what I want at the moment," she said truthfully. "I told him that something might be happening with someone else, and I don't want to get tangled up in a relationship only for it to all fall apart."

"I see," Draco murmured, his tone somewhat lighter.

"Indeed." It was Hermione's turn to be stiff. "Have you been having a nice Christmas?"

"Not particularly," his nose wrinkled in distaste. "Pansy and Blaise are getting a divorce and Pansy has moved in with me. She keeps flying into rages and breaking absolutely everything in her reach."

"That _does_ sound fun," Hermione joked and the corners of Draco's mouth turned upwards.

"We spent the morning with my parents, and she's gone back to her mother's home until dinner. I'm meant to be going back to see my parents for lunch," Draco said, shaking his sleeve back and checking his watch. "Speaking of which, I'm probably keeping you from your food, and my mother won't stand for me to be late."

"You're probably right," she frowned, a little bit sad. "I guess I'll see you around."

"Definitely. My mother will want to catch up with you soon, along with Calline. I think they're pulling together something around New Years, and I imagine you'll be expected to attend," Draco explained.

"Your mother certainly does love throwing a party," Hermione smiled. "I'll see you later." She turned away with a quick wave, heading back to the warmth of The Burrow.

"Granger," his voice was quiet and impossibly close, and when she turned around he was right in front of her. Before she could even move he had pressed his lips to hers firmly, his mouth demanding, dominating. And then, before she could even think about reacting his lips were gone from her own, instead set into a small smirk. "Merry Christmas."

She heard a crack and he had vanished, and she wandered back to the house in a daze, her head spinning with the intensity of the kiss. What was Draco to her? Were they a couple? Or were they just friends?

Just friends, she decided. Just friends who happened to snog every so often.

**

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A/N: Hello, everyone! Another chapter for you, longer than I had planned for it to be. Please review and let me know what you think, for I'm not entirely happy with it. As always, there are pictures of outfits (and Hermione's necklace) if you follow the link in my profile. Whilst you are there, I would greatly appreciate it if you could check out my other links.**

**On a side note, woo! I've reached over 100 reviews for this story! Thank you **_**so**_** much to everybody who has taken the time to review. It means so much to me and definitely brightens my day when I read what you've said to me.**


	17. Chapter 17

Hermione beamed upon returning to The Burrow. She was still in a slight daze after her encounter with Draco, and so it was no surprise that she did not notice her fuming ex-husband grasping the wrist of a guilty looking Teddy until Ron stepped in front of her.

"What the hell is this?" he asked angrily, picking Teddy up. Hermione's face fell at the sight of Teddy's hair; it looked just like Draco's. She drew in a sharp breath. "Well? He came running in saying that you were talking to someone who looked like _this_!" He gave Teddy a light shake on the last word.

"Ron, just put Teddy down. Please," Hermione said quietly, hoping not to draw attention to them. Everyone else was scattered about the house but she knew that if they heard raised voices they would come running. "Put him down and I'll explain everything."

"No!" Ron yelled and she flinched. Not because of fear, but because she could now hear footsteps rushing to where they were standing. Within moments they had an audience of Harry, Ginny, Charlie, Bill and George, all of whom were looking at the trio. Ron turned to face Harry, Teddy still in his arms. "Look at this!" Ron thrust Teddy into Harry's arms and everyone's eyes widened slightly. Hermione wanted to sink into the ground.

"What's this, Ted?" Harry asked quietly, ruffling his godson's hair gently. "You've never made your hair like this before."

"That's because he had never seen anyone with hair like _that_ until today!" Ron snapped and Harry shot him a warning look.

"What happened, Teddy?" Harry questioned the boy who shifted uncomfortably. "You won't be in any trouble, I promise."

Teddy looked up at Harry with large blue eyes which had thankfully changed from Draco's eye colour and opened his mouth to begin. "I was with Hermione and she said her friend was outside and she went to see them and I went with her and her friend looked like this." The little boy sucked in a deep breath when he had finished, changing his eye colour to grey and keeping his hair blonde. Hermione wished she could disappear.

"Hermione?" Harry was looking at her now. She envied how calm and collected he was. "Who is your friend?"

"Draco," she squeaked out quietly, so quietly that she had to repeat herself. "Draco. Draco Malfoy."

The reaction was instantaneous. Harry visibly stiffened and Ginny's hand found its way to his forearm to calm her husband. Ron was looking smug, but his face was still red. Charlie had paled and Hermione could tell he was putting two and two together. George and Bill were both tense and Hermione could see a shine of sadness in George's eyes.

"Oh? And why would that be?" Harry's voice was strained and he had tightened his grip on Teddy who was trying to escape from his hold. "Why would Malfoy be here?"

"He came to visit me and to wish me a happy Christmas," Hermione said truthfully. At this point, lying would only make things worse. "Harry, let Teddy go. You're hurting him."

Harry let Teddy slide from his grip. "How could you just take him out there to meet Malfoy?" Harry was losing control. His voice was rising and his cheeks were coloured. "He could have hurt him, Hermione! He could have hurt _you_!"

"He isn't like that anymore, Harry. He's changed," Hermione's voice was in grave danger of rising and she knew that she would come out victorious in this argument if she lost control, but she did not want to win this argument; simply make the others see where she was coming from. "You don't even know him."

"We know that he's a Death Eater!" Ron exploded and Hermione flinched again, this time from fear.

"Oh shut it, Ron. Let Hermione explain," Ginny said, clearly the calmest of them all. Ron opened his mouth to protest but his younger sister raised a brow in his direction and he closed it immediately. "How about we go and have some lunch and when we're all fed and watered we can actually have a rational discussion about it all?"

"I have no idea what all this ruckus is about but I'm going to agree with you, Ginny," Molly's impatient voice sounded from the doorway. "Lunch is ready, so come on!"

The seven who were standing in the front room shuffled into the kitchen where the table was groaning beneath the weight of the food. Molly had, as usual, outdone herself, but Hermione could only nibble on a bread roll. She was at the end of the table with Ginny on her left, all the while receiving glares from Ron and strange looks from the other Weasleys.

After fifteen minutes she politely excused herself and returned to the guest room, grabbing her bag and carefully repacking. She was planning to explain herself and then depart, not wanting to be the cause of awkward tension any longer. With a flick of her wand the bag zipped close, albeit with some trouble from overstuffing, and Hermione sat on her bed with her head in her hands. This was such a mess.

"Moping isn't going to do you any good, you know," Ginny pointed out, closing the door behind her. Hermione looked up at the intrusion with tired eyes.

"Probably not, but I can avoid the interrogation for a little while longer if I mope," Hermione combated.

"Point taken," Ginny said. "But they're going to come looking for you and you're going to have to answer their questions. You may as well get it over with."

"They're not exactly going to take it well though, are they? Ron is already furious, Charlie is putting everything together, and Harry is still so fucking paranoid," Hermione sighed. "Not that I care what Ronald thinks."

"Nor do I," Ginny agreed. "But I _do_ care what Harry thinks, and of course he's paranoid. Teddy is his godson and you're his best friend. He'll do anything to protect you, Hermione, and the thought of either one of you getting hurt is his worst nightmare."

"I suppose," Hermione frowned. "I guess I'll go and talk to them all, but after that's done I'm going to my parents' house. I don't really want to hang around here for much longer."

"Fair enough," Ginny conceded. "They said they were going to be in the living room to wait for you. Shall we?"

Hermione nodded and accompanied Ginny to the living room. As soon as she stepped in she felt the air grow tense. Had the seats always been arranged in such a way that they would form a semi-circle around anyone in her position? She seated herself in the last remaining armchair, looking around at the others who seemed to be bursting with questions. Harry seemed to have calmed down but Ron was still red in the face. Charlie seemed paler than usual beneath his vast number of freckles.

"Why was Malfoy here?" Harry broke the silence, leaning forward slightly.

"As I said before, _Draco_ came to wish me a happy Christmas," Hermione repeated. "We're friends. That's what friends do."

"Why did you take Teddy out there with you?" Harry questioned. She was glad she had never been on the wrong side of him when it came to his job. His piercing green eyes were intense behind his glasses.

"Teddy is Draco's second cousin, and I thought that Draco might want to meet him," Hermione said. "He was in no danger. I would never put Teddy in any danger."

"Why are you so sure he's a good guy?" Ron butted in angrily and Hermione felt her cheeks colour.

"Why are _you_ so sure he's a bad guy, Ronald?" Hermione asked angrily. "You're still blinded by childhood prejudices. Yes, he was a total ass when we were in school, but you haven't spoken to him since you were seventeen."

"He let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts," Ron argued. "He nearly killed Dumbledore."

"_Nearly_, Ronald. He _nearly_ killed Dumbledore. You said it yourself that he couldn't go through with it," Hermione retorted. "He was sixteen and terrified of being killed himself, and even though he was being threatened with his own torture and death, he still didn't go through with it."

"Hermione, he still could have hurt you," Harry said quietly and her gaze fell upon him. His eyes were sad now, worried for her safety. "I know that you don't think he would have, but I don't want to take any chances."

"Harry, I'm not a child," Hermione said, her voice almost whiny. "I know how to look after myself."

"I know you do, but I still worry," Harry frowned, leaning back.

"We _all_ worry," Bill corrected Harry. "There are still people loyal to Voldemort out there, Hermione."

"And seeing as the Malfoy family were the closest family to Voldemort, we have the right to be worried," Charlie added hastily. "We all care about you, and we don't want to see you getting hurt."

"I'm not going to get hurt," Hermione said wearily. "I trust Narcissa entirely, and I trust Draco."

Ron snorted. "He's a Slytherin! They don't change."

"For fuck's sake, Ron. Shut up," Ginny snapped, tossing her hair over her shoulder and glaring at her brother. Ron flushed instantly and crossed his arms, pouting like a child. "Hermione, we all know that you are well acquainted with the Malfoy family, and I have no problem with that."

"Thank you," Hermione muttered quietly.

"That being said, I'm sure we would all prefer you to remain cautious around them, particularly when Lucius Malfoy is concerned. We know you went to his birthday party two nights ago, and we know that you came out of there safely, but he has a dark past," Ginny frowned. "As well as that, maybe it isn't the best idea to take Teddy out to meet Draco without letting us know first. We worry about him enough."

"Fine. I'll watch myself when I'm around the Malfoys," Hermione said and she couldn't keep the bitterness out of her tone. She knew Ginny was just trying to keep the peace, but Hermione knew what she was doing. "I admit not telling anybody when I went to take Teddy to meet Draco was a bit cautious of me, but they're family. Teddy doesn't have much family left. He should be able to know what family he has left."

"We're his family!" Ron bellowed. "He doesn't need Draco fucking Malfoy! He has all of us!"

"Ron," Harry said warningly and Ron quieted, his face still a rather unbecoming shade of red. "Hermione's right. Teddy doesn't have much family left. He has Andromeda, and that's it for his blood relations. Granted, the rest of us are like family to him, but maybe it's time he got to know his real family."

"Exactly," Hermione said smugly.

"However, I don't think introducing him to Malfoy first of all is the smartest idea, Besides, Andromeda should have a say in all of this, and seeing as she is on holidays, I feel we should wait until she gets back before suggesting it," Harry stated.

"Fine," Hermione said with a resigned sigh. She was still receiving filthy looks from Ron and Charlie looked as though she had stolen his puppy.

"I'm still not happy with how easily you've come to trust Malfoy, Hermione," Harry said and any relief she had felt from Harry's supposed acceptance faded.

"Then it's a bloody good thing that I don't need your blessing to become friends with people," she snapped, standing up and striding to her room, returning after a moment with her bag slung over her shoulder. "I'm going to visit my parents for the rest of the week."

Harry and Charlie got up to protest her leaving but by that point she was already out the front door, traipsing through the snow until she reached the boundaries of the property. She heard them calling after her but she was far too angry to turn and listen to whatever they had to say. She pulled out her wand and spun on the spot, appearing in her parent's backyard. She let out a relieved sigh and walked around to the front of the house.

Jean and Timothy Granger lived in a picturesque house in Surrey. The house was small and the one Hermione had grown up in, with blue weatherboard and a lovely white trim on the windows and guttering. Jean Granger's hobby, when she was not at work, was tending to her garden and as a result the house was surrounded by beautiful landscaping when it was not blanketed with snow. Hermione smiled at the memories that this house held as she walked up the front path.

The door opened after a single knock and Hermione was barrelled over by her enthusiastic mother who embraced her fully. Hermione hugged back tightly. She didn't realize how much she missed her parents until she was away with them for a long time.

"Come in, darling. You must be freezing. Your father has a fire going," Jean said happily, ushering her daughter in. Jean stepped back and looked over Hermione, nodding approvingly. "You're looking wonderful, sweetheart. A new man in your life, perhaps?"

"Mum!" Hermione cried, but she was smiling. She could smell her mother's Christmas cookies and she felt like a child. "Can I have a cookie?"

Jean laughed. "Of course! Timothy, Hermione's here," Jean took Hermione's back and hurried it to her old bedroom where she stayed when she spent the night. "The cookies are in the kitchen, dear."

Hermione thanked her mother and entered the bright kitchen where there was a large tray of the cooling treats.

"Hello, cupcake!" Timothy was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper. His reading glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose and he looked at her with cheerful brown eyes. "How are you, Hermione? We haven't seen you around here for a while." Timothy stood and hugged his daughter.

"I'm good, dad," she replied. "Sorry I haven't been here lately. I've been working and life has been a little bit crazy lately."

"If it's anything to do with boys then I don't want to hear it," Timothy said. "You're far too young to be dating," he joked.

"We'll just ignore the fact I've already been married," Hermione smiled and Timothy laughed heartily.

"What are you two chortling about in here?" Jean entered the kitchen, untying the apron she had wrapped around herself. Jean was a cheerful looking woman with laughter lines and slightly greying brown hair, the same colour and texture of Hermione's. "Sit, Hermione. I'll get us all some tea."

Ten minutes later the family had moved to the living room with cups of tea and biscuits. There was a blazing fire and Jean had put on a record of Christmas carols. Hermione loved the simplicity of the situation. There was nothing at all out of the ordinary – no magic, no strange occurrences and no absurd number of people. The three of them were talking about their respective occupations when conversation finally lulled.

"Hermione, I've been meaning to ask you why you're here," Jean said, pouring more tea for everyone. "Not that I don't love having you hear, dear, but I thought you were going to be spending this Christmas at The Burrow."

Hermione cringed. This was the topic she had been hoping to avoid. "We had a bit of a disagreement," she said, dodging the heart of the argument.

"You had an argument with _all_ of them?" Timothy asked sceptically.

"Of course not, and I never said it was an argument, Dad. Simply a bit of a disagreement," Hermione shrugged. "It's no big deal. I haven't seen you guys in a while, anyway, and it's much more peaceful here."

"We're happy to have you here," Jean said truthfully. "Unfortunately your father and I are going to a dental convention in Wales tomorrow, so we won't be around for the next week or so. You're welcome to stay here whilst we're away, of course."

"Thanks, Mum," Hermione smiled. "I'll stay the night and see you off in the morning. I'll decide what to do from there."

Jean and Timothy both agreed that this was the best idea and the three of them reverted back into easy conversation, neither of Hermione's parents pressing her for details regarding her 'disagreement'.

* * *

Hermione woke the next morning in a state of extreme comfort when it was still dark outside. She could hear her parents going about their morning routine in the kitchen and after ten minutes of relaxing she decided to join them.

The house was already lovely and warm so Hermione had no qualms about leaving the sanctuary that was her bed. It was only a single bed but it had been _her_ bed since she was six. She had never slept as well in another bed. A look at the clock on her bedside table told her it was half past six meaning her parents would be leaving in half an hour. She had decided to spend the next few days at her parent's house. It would be less likely that she would encounter anyone she knew if she stayed there and at this point she wanted some peace and quiet.

"Good morning, cupcake," Timothy smiled when she shuffled into the kitchen. He handed her a cup of tea and carried his own breakfast to the table where Jean was finishing off the last of her toast.

"Have you decided what you plan on doing after we leave, dear?" Jean asked, standing and clearing up her plate.

"I'm going to apparate home and grab some more clothes and Altheda and then I think I'll spend a few more days here. I really like the peace and quiet," she smiled. "Is that alright with you guys?"

"That sounds fine," Jean agreed. "Just make sure the house isn't in a state of ruins when we return."

"Mum, I've been living alone for a fair while now and my house hasn't burnt down yet," Hermione laughed. "It'll be fine."

"Just make sure of that," Jean's eyes twinkled. "Now, Timothy, get out. Hermione and I need to have some girl time before we leave."

"I certainly do not need to be here when you have your 'girl time'. I'll go and finish packing," Timothy cleared his plates and exited hurriedly under the stern gaze of Jean.

"What's wrong, Hermione? And don't even think about lying to me, young lady," Jean said.

"Nothing's wrong, Mum," Hermione replied. Truthfully there was nothing _wrong_, but a few things weren't quite right.

"Then what about what I said yesterday? You're looking positively radiant, dear," Jean pointed out. "There must be a reason. A boy?"

Hermione laughed at that. Whatever he was to her, Draco certainly wasn't a boy. "I don't quite know, and at the moment I don't really want to find out. I just want to relax for a few days and live like I used to. The wizarding world is so stressful and busy."

"Alright, darling," Jean said slowly. "When you are ready to talk about it, come straight to me. I may be old, but I'm not daft."

"I never said you were either, Mum," Hermione smiled. "Now, your cab will be here soon, and I'm sure you don't want to miss your flight."

After a quick hug Jean went to finish packing and Hermione sat at the table, nursing the last of her tea. She truly was looking forward to living like a muggle again, even if it was just for a few days.

**

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A/N: Just a quick chapter for you all. I figure that, if I plan my time accordingly, I can manage at least two chapters a week, though I'm not sure that will happen every week. **

**Anyhow, I figured I should put in a reaction to Teddy's appearance and flesh it all out a little bit more, so here you go! **

**Also, the Christmas I gave Hermione is similar to the ones I used to spend with my family. It was always loud and busy with more food than we could handle, and my cousins and I would wake everyone up at some ungodly hour so we could open our presents. As well as this, I always imagined Hermione's parents to be very loving, happy people who dote upon their daughter. I still get confused when I read stories where Hermione has horrid parents, but hey, this is just my interpretation!**

**I hope you all enjoyed it and please review!  
**


	18. Chapter 18

"LOUSY LITTLE FUCKER!"

Draco ducked as a somewhat priceless glass vase flew past his ear, smashing on the wall behind him into hundreds of glittering shards. Pansy had found the antiques. He shook his head and rustled the Evening Prophet as yet another valuable shattered behind him.

"FILTHY! DISGUSTING! ASSHOLE !"

Each cruel word was emphasized by another breaking object. Draco knew he would have to stop her soon, before she destroyed everything in his home, but he was vainly hoping she would exhaust herself between the insults and obliteration of his various possessions.

"SLUTTY MANWHORE!"

Draco had to laugh at that one, though as soon as the dry chuckle escaped him he knew he was in for it. There was a dull thud from the kitchen as Pansy dropped something onto the floor, followed by the click of her heels. When the sound stopped he looked up from his paper, flinching at her closeness. She was less than a foot away with her wand drawn and pointed directly between his eyes.

"What the fuck is so funny?" Pansy growled, pressing the tip of her wand against the bridge of his nose. "You find it fucking _hilarious_ that my husband decided to fuck some fucking whore in our fucking bed?"

Draco set down his paper with raised eyebrows at her excessive cursing. Pansy had a vicious tongue, yes, but she relied on dry wit and snappy retorts to cut, not common swearwords. "Not at all, Pansy. Your choice of language, on the other hand, is quite amusing."

Pansy's eyes narrowed and she stormed off in a whirlwind of mutterings. She had been in a foul mood for the past week, her divorce having been finalized only that morning. Draco, being Pansy's best friend, had offered her a place to stay until she found a house of her own. Of course, he had not realized that offering a room to a friend would leave him with a vast amount of broken glass and tiptoeing on eggshells. The woman seemed to have an unbelievably vast number of experiences with Blaise which she could relate to anything, and Draco had been the victim of her abuse for bringing up unwanted memories more than once.

He heard another crash from his kitchen and he stifled a groan. It had sounded distinctly like a five hundred year old glass goblet, one of the few Malfoy family heirlooms he was particularly fond of, smashing on the stone floors. Draco reached for his wand on the coffee table, spinning it lazily in his fingers, contemplating whether or not to stun the woman who was currently making mincemeat out of his kitchen.

A particularly loud crash reverberated throughout the home and Draco jumped up, determined to stop the nonsense that was Pansy Parkinson from leaving him in ruins. His resolve for stunning, or at least immobilizing, was discarded, however, when he entered the kitchen to find Pansy seated on the floor. Her hair was in disarray and sobs ripped from her chest as she kneeled amongst thousands of shards of glass. Her hands were bloody and her dress torn and her cheeks were stained with tears which continued to fall as he strode across the kitchen, reaching her in two strides and gathering her into his arms.

Her head lolled into the crook of his neck as he carried to the living room, carefully placing her on the couch where he had just been seated. When he released her she coiled into a ball, her body shaking with sobs. He quickly prised her out of her position, gently holding her hand as he ran his wand over the cuts and slices, murmuring spells until they sewed themselves back together. At long last exhaustion appeared to have overcome Pansy and he watched the slow and steady rise and fall of her chest as she slept.

If it were any other female then he would have ulterior motives for undressing them, but this was Pansy. This was his best friend. This was the woman he had cleaned up a countless number of times after one too many drinks on a night out. He carefully unzipped her torn dress and pulled it from her body, dumping it unceremoniously on the floor. He pulled off her heels and her sheer stockings before picking her up once more.

He hated that someone could do this to Pansy. She was always so strong, so haughty, and here she was with a makeup stained face and bloodied hands because some bastard who was not even worth a second of her time had gone and cheated on her. Draco had felt shaken with rage on more than one occasion since Pansy had revealed Blaise's infidelity, and seeing his best friend so broken was the last straw.

Draco carried her to her bedroom, awkwardly shifting the covers out of the way before placing her on the bed. He covered her up and watched for a moment as she burrowed beneath the covers, clutching the pillow to her head. Her forehead was marred with frown lines. She was hurting and he wanted nothing more than to kill the cheating scum who had done this to her.

Half a minute later he was throwing a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace, disappearing into the swirl of green flames. He stepped out and into the parlour of the South Wing of Zabini Manor, a familiar location for him. Hearing footsteps approaching, he smoothed down his crisp shirt and removed any pieces of soot, turning to face the large archway.

"Excuse me?"

The voice was feminine, soft, and it took Draco a few minutes to place the face. He saw curly blonde hair and a plain, pale face with a few blemishes. That, tied in with the baby dressed in pink connected all the dots he needed.

"I cannot fucking believe this," he shook his head in amazement. "Fucking hell!"

"Do you mind?" the woman asked sharply, nodding her head to the baby girl.

"Marietta _fucking_ Edgecomb. _You_ are the woman Blaise cheated on Pansy with?" Draco said incredulously and Marietta nodded. "Merlin, I thought Blaise was mad when he cheated on Pansy, but to cheat on her with _you_?"

"What do you mean by that, exactly?" Marietta frowned, adjusting the baby, Rose, in her arms.

"You _have_ seen Pansy, haven't you?" he questioned and she nodded. "No offense, but she is one hell of a good looking woman. You could be pretty, but Pansy doesn't even have to try. Merlin knows why Blaise chose _you_."

"Perhaps it's because Marietta has at least a sliver of a soul, something which Pansy lacks," Blaise drawled, entering the room. He tossed a lazy arm over Marietta's shoulder, looking the picture of ease.

"Something which Pansy _lacks_?" Draco raised his brows. "You obviously haven't seen her lately, you absolute wanker. She's a total wreck and it's your bloody fault for going back to this bint after a one night stand."

"Mari, go and put Rose down for her nap," Blaise instructed and Marietta scurried away, casting a glare over her shoulder at Draco. "Now, I think it's time we have a little chat, shall we?" The Italian wizard gestured to the cushy armchairs and Draco took a seat, keeping his hand clasped around his wand. He still wasn't past hexing Blaise into oblivion.

"What shall we 'chat' about, Blaise?" Draco asked stiffly. "How you cheated on Pansy? How you abandoned her and left me to pick up the pieces? Or why don't we talk about why she's currently a tear-streaked mess who has been breaking my possessions all day, all the while cursing your name to the high heavens?"

"She's always had a love of the dramatics," Blaise commented and Draco fought the rage which built in his chest. "I'm sure Pansy was never entirely faithful in our relationship."

"You're certain of that, Blaise? She fucking _loves_ you," Draco spat. "You are one of the few people she loves, and she is fiercely loyal to those whom she bestows her feelings upon. She would _never_ cheat on you."

To his credit, Blaise looked surprised, his mouth forming into a small O before his face returned to a cool mask to match Draco's. "If Pansy told you the full story, then you would know that she left me. I hardly _abandoned_ her. I see her favour for the theatrics has rubbed off on you," Blaise said dryly.

"She left you after you told her that your illegitimate child would be moving in with you, along with the mother of the kid," Draco retorted. "Good move, Blaise. Real good move. I don't know how you could even begin to think that Pans would be okay with that."

"It would only have been until Marietta could find a house!" Blaise argued. "However, Pansy leaving has given me a chance to really reflect on things. Pansy never wanted children, and now I have a daughter of my own, all without the hassle of a melodramatic, spoilt rotten wife."

"So you're certain Rose is your daughter? Edgecomb hasn't pulled the rug over your head as well?" Draco jeered.

"Paternity tests work wonders," Blaise smirked and Draco scowled. "Even if I hadn't conducted a paternity test when Mari claimed that Rose was my daughter, I could tell just by looking at her. She has my eyes."

"Because eye colour is always a guarantee," Draco said sarcastically. "I'm glad that everything has worked out swimmingly for you. Shall we just forget the crying wreck that is your ex-wife, then?"

"Pansy should have known we would never have worked out for the long term," Blaise shrugged. "We were never perfectly suited to each other. Anyway, she's getting a hefty settlement fee, so she should be out of your hair and spending it up in no time."

"Charming," Draco said snottily. "Well then, I'll go and inform her that the money is being wired to her account now, shall we? Just so she can prepare enough shopping trips in advance."

"Splendid," Blaise remarked. "I can't say it's been a pleasure seeing you, Draco, but it scarcely is whenever we're alone."

"Fuck you, too," Draco farewelled his fellow Slytherin before stepping into the fireplace and returning to his home. He could hear snuffling and Pansy's mumbled voice coming from the kitchen. She was awake.

"Draco. I'm so sorry," Pansy's lower lip quivered when she saw him standing in the doorway, repairing the various objects she had destroyed. Her eyes were red and puffy and she still looked a mess, dressed in one of his shirts which fell to her mid thigh.

"Pansy," he murmured, cautiously approaching her. Her wand clattered to the floor and he embraced her. "Don't cry, Pans. My best friend never cries. Not even when I spilt all of her elf-made perfume in fifth year."

Pansy managed a watery chuckle and squirmed out of his hold. "Everything's so messed up now," she mumbled, wiping away her tears. "I have no idea how you've handled me these past few days."

"With a lot of firewhiskey and silencing charms," he joked, relieved when she smiled. "It'll work out. Don't worry."

"How can I _not_ worry, Draco?" her eyes were wide, pleading. "I love him. I still love him, and now I've lost him to some stupid _whore_ and her spawn."

"He's a prick, Pansy. You may love him, but he's a total and utter bastard," Draco shrugged, ushering her into the lounge room where she sat in an armchair, discarding all regard for properness as she curled up. "He's always been a bastard. He treats women like shit. He even had the nerve to treat _you_ like shit, which was a bad move on his part." Draco cracked his knuckles menacingly and Pansy's lips twitched upwards. "Tea?"

"Firewhiskey?" she suggested and he nodded in agreement.

"Much better idea," he said, summoning two tumblers and a bottle of the alcohol. He poured them each generous glasses and took a swig of his own. "Blaise told me to let you know that your settlement fee will be wired to your account in the next few days."

"Great, another stack of money," Pansy rolled her eyes. "I need a cigarette. Mind if I smoke in here?"

"I haven't cared for the last week," Draco reminded her as she lit up one of the foul smelling sticks. He had absolutely no desire to try one, and his desire lessened when Pansy let out a little cough. "Why do you even smoke those?"

"Stress relief," Pansy informed him. "These are bloody good ones as well."

"If you say so," Draco sniffed, flicking his wand to open a window. The smoke lazily trailed out as the two friends sat in silence, Pansy puffing away and Draco staring into the amber depths of his glass.

"What are you looking so pensive about?" Pansy inquired, vanishing the butt of her cigarette. "Think much harder and you might make the glass explode."

"Merlin knows there's been enough broken glass in this house today," Draco snorted and Pansy flushed.

"Shut it," she snapped. "I'm angry. I have a right to smash things."

"I thought that only applied when you were destroying your own possessions."

"Pour me more firewhiskey and put a lid on it," she rattled her empty tumbler in front of him and he smirked, pouring them each another glass.

* * *

Two bottles of Ogden's finest later, Pansy and Draco had moved to the topic of loves lost.

"Astoria was a _bitch_," Draco slurred, his drink spilling over the edge. "My mum is _insane_ to think I'd like _her_."

"Nah, nah, nah. _Love_ is a bitch," Pansy corrected him, her eyes closed and head resting on the armrest. "I should've just done what I said when I was fifteen."

"Whazzat?"

"Never fall in love," she said. "Love is so _silly_. I don't want no one to hurt me again like _him_."

"Fair 'nuf," Draco agreed, nodding his head. "I'll toast to that!"

Their glasses clinked together clumsily, the last of the firewhiskey slopping over the edge and landing on the floor. Pansy began to giggle hysterically, Draco joining in on her infectious laughter, their glasses miraculously making their way to the table with no damage. Their laughter increased in volume, both of them clutching their stomachs as they rolled off their respective chairs and landing with a thud on the ground, tears of mirth streaming down their cheeks.

Finally when all laughter was exhausted and their stomaches ached, Pansy turned to Draco and said one thing she had never meant until then.

"Thank you."

* * *

**A/N: Third chapter in as many days! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I quite like Pansy in some fan fictions - yes, she's a bitch, but a funny one if written well. **

**I really do love your reviews, and it would make me so happy if I could get some for this chapter :) If all goes according to my plan, I will have another chapter out before Wednesday.  
**


	19. Chapter 19

He rubbed his temples, wishing to soothe the aching tension that had built in his head. His elbows rested on the mahogany desk and his grey eyes were shut, the intruding light piercing his brain to cause him intense pain. After a few minutes his eyes snapped open and he glanced over the parchment covered in his tall, elegant script. With a soft sigh he picked up his quill and dipped it once more into the inkwell, signing his name at the bottom of the page with a flourish.

Lifting his wand, he carefully charmed the ink dry and skimmed over its contents quickly, ensuring everything was accounted for. When he was certain he had nothing left to write he stood, making his way to his favourite armchair on surprisingly steady legs. He had grown use to wobbling about, glad that others were too concerned with their own affairs to notice his deteriorating health. He was well aware he had little time left.

Reclining in the green chair, he poured himself a glass of Seppelt Para, a guilty and by far his most favoured indulgence. The colour was rich and the flavour even more so. It was one of the few muggle creations he could stand to have in his home, and the only allowed in his study. He lifted the glass to his nose and inhaled deeply. He could almost _taste_ the smell of toffee and chocolate with a hint of fresh fruit, intermingled with the delicate, almost invisible scent of tobacco. His mouth watered slightly at the delectable aroma. Unable to contain himself a moment longer he took a deep sip, relishing the feeling of the silken drink sliding down his throat.

Two pleasurable glasses later his eyelids were drooping, his mind clouded by a dense fog. He rested his head against the back of the chair and took in a deep breath, the glass in his hand unconsciously tilting until a slow trickle of the drink within began to pool on the floor below. By this point he was already fast asleep, his head soon lolling to one side and his mouth parting ever so slightly. Two minutes later his grip slackened, the glass falling to the ground with an almighty smash, the sound not stirring the individual perched in the chair.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, two days out from the new year, Lucius Malfoy died.

* * *

Hermione felt a little bit sad as she pottered around her parent's house, packing her clothes. She would be returning to her house after dinner that night so she could settle back into her normal routine before work restarted. She had loved the simplicity of living as a muggle, and not being attacked by messenger owls with notes from her friends.

She loved her friends more than anything, but right now she needed space. She understood their reactions to Draco's presence, but couldn't they trust her judgement? She had proven on several occasions that she was the best decision maker of her friends. She never entered a situation blind. Everything she had ever done was meticulously planned to the last degree, something which she took pride in. She wasn't about to let herself get attacked by Draco Malfoy.

Shaking her head, Hermione tucked her last pair of shoes awkwardly into her bag. Her parents would not be returning for another three days but she felt she had to leave the house immaculately clean, and had consequently spent her visit cleaning things the muggle way and reminiscing on the good times she had spent in this house.

She had just picked up the kettle to put it on for a cup of tea when there was a loud crack and a house elf appeared in the kitchen. She let out a little shriek and the elf looked startled.

"Krackus is not meaning to scare you, Misses!" the elf squeaked. "Krackus has been asked by Lady Cissy to send you to fetch young Master Malfor immediately. She is saying she needs him but Krackus musts be homes with her! Lady Cissy _needs _Krackus! She is needing her son too, though, right away please." At this point the elf's big eyes filled with tears and Hermione's face fell. "Old Master Malfoy is deads."

"Oh no," Hermione murmured, her eyes beginning to sting. She had never been particularly fond of Lucius Malfoy, but this would be devastating for Narcissa. "Go back to Lady Malfoy, please. I'll fetch Draco."

The elf gave a shaky nod and disappeared with another loud crack. Hermione let out a cough and rubbed at her eyes as she searched for her wand. Checking that everything was still in place she disappeared with a twirl.

* * *

Draco woke with a start, sitting up and immediately regretting the action. He promptly fell back again, shutting his eyes against the throbbing light of the outside world. The early afternoon sun was painfully bright and hammered into his skull. Sitting up again, this time slowly, he rubbed his eyes and squinted against the light, finally finding his wand and summoning a hangover cure from his supply in the bathroom.

Downing the vile tasting liquid, he stood and glanced to the clock. Three o'clock. His eyes then turned to Pansy who was a tangle of limbs on the floor, not at all the picture of dignified grace she appeared in public. He let out a low chuckle and bent down, readjusting her limbs and placing a pillow beneath her head.

Looking down at his attire, Draco realized that his shirt was a rumpled mess and his pants were no better, though he should not have expected anything different having slept on the floor all night. There was also the horrid taste of bile and old alcohol in his mouth, something which he needed to rinse out immediately. He decided to shower quickly, scouring off all dirt that had formed on his skin, and then brushed his teeth thoroughly. Twenty minutes later he emerged from the bathroom in jeans and a black sweatshirt, very dressed down by the Malfoy standards.

When he returned to the living room he smirked at Pansy who was writhing around on the floor in pain. She was clutching her head desperately and groaning.

"Hangover cure?" he offered and she moaned once more. He took that as a yes. Helping her into a sitting position he uncorked a vial of the potion and tipped it down her throat. The effect was instantaneous, her eyes snapping open and a grimace forming on her face.

"My mouth tastes like ass."

"Charming, Pansy," he rolled his eyes, standing up. "Go and take a shower. I'll make tea."

She shuffled from the room and a moment later he heard the water start. Knowing full well that she would take at least a half hour bathing and preparing herself, he decided to relax in the solitude for a moment longer. He relished the silence of the afternoon for a while, flipping leisurely through the newspaper, stopping to read articles at random. It was only when twenty five minutes had past did he begin to make the tea, pouring a cup for Pansy (no sugar, skim milk) when she walked through the door.

He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "I don't know how you can drink it like that," he said as he added a sugar to his own cup and a splash of full cream milk.

"How else do you expect me to stay skinny?" she asked as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I don't know, exercise?" he remarked and she snorted, tossing her wet hair over her shoulder. "Why are you in my dressing gown?"

"It's comfortable and I don't know what else to wear."

"Typical."

"Shut up."

A knock on the door interrupted their bickering and Pansy shot him a glare as he left the room, chuckling at their antics. He immediately sobered up when he opened the door to reveal Hermione standing there with red rimmed eyes. He opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong but Pansy's voice cut him off.

"Draco, who is it?"

His best friend, dressed only in his dressing gown and clutching her cup of tea, shuffled into the entryway. Hermione's brown eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in an expression he recognized as anger, something which was very dangerous when combined with Hermione Granger. He started to speak again but this time the muggle born witch cut him off.

"You need to go to the Manor. Now," her lower lip quivered as she spoke and a tear leaked from her eye. "It's your father."

"Wait!" he yelled as she spun on her heel and disapparated with a loud crack. His arm breezed through the empty air where Hermione had been standing a second ago. "Fuck."

"What was that about?" Pansy asked once Draco had slammed the door.

"No fucking clue," he growled, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "I'm going to the Manor. I don't give a fuck what you're doing, but if you do join me, I suggest you change into something a little more proper."

He reached into his pocket and grabbed his wand, squeezing into the tube of apparition before Pansy could say another word. He reappeared outside the gates of Malfoy Manor and broke into a sprint, running up the long drive and bursting through the doors.

"Krackus!" he demanded and there was a pop as a house elf, dressed in a neat suit, appeared immediately. "What the hell is going on?"

"It's Master Malfoy, sirs. He is...he is...," a fat tear rolled down the wrinkled elf's cheek and he broke out into a full wail. "Master Malfoy is deads, sirs!"

Something inside Draco broke. "Where is my mother?" he asked quietly. He felt oddly empty.

"She be in the parlour, young Master," Krackus sniffled and Draco was running again. His feet echoed on the marble floors and he skidded to a halt in the doorway of the parlour.

Narcissa was seated on a lounge, her body curled up into a tight ball. The sun poured in and onto her face and he saw that there was a steady stream of tears rolling down her cheeks though she made no sound.

"Mother," he breathed. Her only recognition of his arrival was to straighten herself out, removing her legs from the couch and placing her feet daintily on the floor. He joined her on the couch and she leaned into him immediately. They sat in silence, Draco simply holding his mother whilst she shed her tears for the love she had lost.

* * *

Hermione waited in the library of Malfoy Manor. She had heard Draco's arrival half an hour before, dismissing herself from the parlour before Draco had entered. Narcissa needed to be with her son. She found herself flicking through books at random, running her fingers along dusty spines and inhaling the smell of old tomes.

She had arrived just as the Healers from St. Mungo's were removing Lucius' body. At that point Krackus had been overseeing everything whilst Narcissa mourned in the parlour. She had been the one to find her husband's body when she had gone to offer him tea. Hermione could only imagine the devastation Narcissa had felt when she had found Lucius, apparently dozing in his study, only to realize that he would not wake from his slumber.

According to Krackus, Narcissa had screamed he had immediately come to her side. At the sight that greeted the elderly house elf he had apparated Narcissa to the parlour, where she had remained ever since, and followed her instructions. Within minutes of Narcissa's gruesome discovery Hermione had been contacted and the Healers had arrived. Since then everything had been a blur, the only thing making sense being Krackus showing her to the library where she now resided, aimlessly flipping through a book on charms.

She was trying to think of anything but the events that had unfolded that afternoon, pushing thoughts of the deceased Lucius Malfoy out of her mind along with her discovery at Draco's home. The sight of Pansy Parkinson in what was clearly a male's dressing gown, Draco's no doubt judging by his initials sewn onto the breast, was surprising and distressing. She had immediately felt a wave of anger surge through her systems and she couldn't even look at Draco. The last thing she had seen before apparating away was a mingled look of hurt and confusion etched onto his face at her sharp words.

She had every right to be angry, though. He had led her to believe that they were...something, only to turn around and shag Pansy Parkinson! She had read that Pansy had recently divorced Blaise Zabini, but she certainly seemed to have moved on quickly. With an angry hiss, Hermione snapped the book close and returned it to its spot on the shelf with more force than necessary. She knew it was stupid and selfish to be complaining about her love life with all that had happened in the afternoon but she still couldn't help the irrational feelings that clawed at her insides.

Turning around she flopped into an armchair, the dust rising in whirlwinds from where it had settled on her seat. Truthfully, she was not quite sure why she still remained in the house. She was in no fit state to read with her mind racing a mile a minute and Narcissa seemed not to require her presence whilst Draco was in the Manor. Resigning herself to an afternoon of relaxation at her parents' house (though she mentally chastised herself for indulging in such a thing at this time) she stood and quickly exited the library.

Once the grand doors closed behind her and she stood in the hallway she was entirely unsure of where to go. A soft thud sounded to her right and she turned to see Draco closing the door. Her eyes raked over his appearance and her resentment faltered. He looked so _sad_. Feeling her gaze he looked up and stiffened slightly before relaxing once more.

"You startled me," he said quietly, stepping towards her. She stepped back.

"How is Narcissa?" Hermione asked as she moved.

"Asleep. I just gave her a Dreamless Sleep draught."

"Okay," she mumbled. "I should go."

The atmosphere seemed to shift with her words. Draco tensed and his face grew cold as if realizing something unsavoury. "Yes, you should," he nodded stiffly. Confusion flooded her. "Krackus! Please show Miss Granger out."

The elderly elf nodded, having appeared when his name was called, and tugged on Hermione's hand to make her follow. She obliged, letting the elf lead her to the end of the hallway where she paused and turned to look at Draco.

He was staring at her with sad grey eyes, the look on his face mingled with something undistinguishable that pulled on her heart strings. Their eyes connected for only a second before Draco shut his and turned away, leaving a lump in Hermione's throat.

**

* * *

A/N: NOTE: Seppelt Para is a port which was made in 1892. According to my research it was made in the Barossa Valley in South Australia and sells for about AU$1800 per bottle.**

**I would like to issue a huge thank you to anyone who reviewed/favourited/alerted my story. I got some lovely reviews from my last chapter and I want to thank each and every person who went to the effort of writing a review.**

**Unfortunately, I won't be updating this weekend as I'm travelling up north to visit my friend on Friday night, and I won't return until Sunday afternoon. If I have time I may be able to write a small update on Sunday but it is unlikely.**

**PLEASE REVIEW! I love anything you have to say about my story, as long as it's constructive criticism (if it _is_ criticism). I'm sorry if this chapter was a bit confusing. I wrote each of the passages in an entirely different order and then pieced it all together for some strange reason.  
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	20. Chapter 20

Narcissa stared at the wall, not moving, not blinking, not seeing.

She had tucked her knees beneath her chin and was lying on her side, arms wrapped protectively around her legs. This was her safety position. This was how she had lain when Draco had been branded. This was how she had lain when she had lost her baby before she was even round with child. This was how she had lain whenever her world crashed around her.

And this was how she lay now.

She had long since cried all her tears out. Now she just lay there, wishing that Lucius would crawl beside her and just hold her like he always did. She needed him. And now he was gone and she was left a mess, dressed in the clothes she had been wearing three days ago, all signs of youthfulness gone.

How could he leave her? How could he not tell her? That miserable old bastard, the man she loved with all of her heart had left her, and he had known all along that he would do so. Why had he not let her know? Had there been signs? Surely not! Had he meant to hurt her? Had he meant to leave her like this, crumbling and empty? Gods, she needed him.

All at once she felt her throat burn and her eyes sting and somehow her body produced more tears because in two seconds she was shaking as tears flooded down her cheeks.

* * *

The room was filled with an array of flashing colours as Draco sent hex after hex and curse after curse at the dummy in front of him. He had thought the Duelling Room would help him blow off some steam, but all it seemed to be doing was making him angrier. With an enraged roar he sent a curse at the target and it erupted in flames, only to extinguish itself almost immediately.

There was a clatter as Draco's wand slipped from between his fingers and all of a sudden he had launched himself at the dummy, his fists pounding against his inanimate sparring partner. He kicked, punched, bit and scratched at the figure, not ceasing his actions until he was panting for breath and his knuckles were bloodied.

Crawling away from the dummy on shaky arms and legs he moved to a corner, burying his face into his hands. He was a mess. The blood on his hands trickled down and into his sleeves as he sat there and before long he did something he had not done since Katie Bell had returned to school in his sixth year. He let himself cry.

* * *

Hermione frowned, wondering whether or not she should knock on the door to Malfoy Manor. She was standing in front of the ornately carved entrance, her mind racing a mile a minute. She had not heard from Narcissa since the day of Lucius' death and she had not received any word from Draco, either. Chewing on her lip, Hermione finally raised her hand to knock.

The doors opened immediately and she saw a distressed looking Krackus ushering her in wordlessly. She followed the little elf as he led her up the stairs, noticing the eerie silence that had befallen the grand home. She recognized the room they stopped at as the one that Draco had been exiting the last time she had visited and looked down to Krackus, entering when he pushed her lightly.

"Go, Missus," Krackus prompted and she obliged, walking over the threshold and leaving the elf outside.

The room was dark and extremely large, the main feature being a vast four poster bed on which Hermione spied the form of Narcissa. She approached the older witch cautiously, announcing her arrival with a quiet cough. At the noise Narcissa flinched but made no move to acknowledge her visit. With hesitant steps Hermione approached, finally sitting on the edge of the bed beside Narcissa's curled up body.

"Narcissa," she murmured quietly, brushing her friend's hair from her face. "Narcissa."

"Hermione," Narcissa finally mumbled and Hermione let out a breath she didn't realise she had been holding. Narcissa looked up at her from beneath lidded eyes, the small slits of blue hazy. "You won't hurt him, will you?"

"What?" the brunette asked, puzzled.

"Please don't hurt him," Narcissa repeated. "You can't hurt him. He's all I have left. Now that Lucius is gone and I don't have anyone else. I was going to have someone else, you know. A little baby. But I lost her."

"I'm so sorry, Narcissa," Hermione said. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

Narcissa looked up at Hermione with wide eyes, so full of sadness and worry that Hermione felt her heart tug in her chest. "Draco. My Draco. Please don't hurt him. He will love you. Just give him time. And when he does love you, please don't hurt him. I can't lose him. Not now."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. "Draco?" she frowned. "I don't think he will love me. I think he has somebody else."

"No," Naricissa's head moved from side to side gently. "He needs _you_. And he will love you. But you can't hurt him. Look after him."

"Okay," Hermione said slowly, at a total loss for words. "Come on, Narcissa. Let's get you cleaned up and fed."

Narcissa said nothing, just allowed Hermione to pull her into a sitting position and help her to the bathroom. With steady hands Hermione unbuttoned Narcissa's blouse and pulled it off, following with the skirt and stockings but leaving her undergarments. Flicking her wand, the large bathtub filled with warm water. Rifling in one of the bathroom cabinets for a minute resulted in the discovery of a Restorative Potion and Hermione helped her friend drink the contents of the vial. Narcissa stood on her own accord and clambered into the tub whilst Hermione cleared away the container.

"Narcissa, I'm just going to find you some clothes. I'll be back in a few minutes, so you just scrub yourself clean and I'll return in a moment," Hermione told the witch who nodded once and sunk low in the bath. Leaving the door open, Hermione returned to the bedroom and surveyed the area until she found a door which could only lead to a wardrobe.

She found she was right in assuming that the room was a wardrobe, though it was grander than she could ever imagine. There seemed to be clothes in every direction and she had absolutely no idea what to choose for Narcissa to wear. She could see a line of beautiful robes followed by an even larger section of formal dresses. There were more casual robes than she could count and more pieces of muggle attire than she could ever hope to own in her entire life.

After nearly ten minutes of searching she managed to find some simple jeans and a large jumper in the smallest section of clothing and she managed to wind her way out of the wardrobe with a little difficulty. She could not understand how someone could even find the time to buy that many clothes.

Finally exiting the wardrobe, she came across Narcissa who was sitting at the foot of the bed, wrapped in a fluffy green towel and looking remarkably sane compared to how she had been prior to her bath.

"Thank you, Hermione," the witch said soberly, taking the clothes from the younger witch's hands. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"Nonsense, Narcissa," Hermione shook her head. "You're my friend and you needed me. That's what friends do. I'm so sorry for everything that has happened."

"I know. So am I," Narcissa bowed her head. "I meant what I said before, even if I did appear to be utterly insane. About Draco."

"I'm not sure what you mean," Hermione went to turn away but Narcissa's surprisingly curt voice cut her off.

"You know perfectly well what I mean, Hermione," the blonde said sharply. "I may have been half-asleep but I knew exactly what I was saying. I may be getting on in years but I'm certainly not daft."

"I never-,"

"Draco is all that I have left now that...now..." Narcissa wiped her eyes quickly and sniffed once. "Draco is everything to me now. I see how you look at him, and how he looks at you. It's how anyone looks at the person who they want to love. You need to give him a chance. Please."

"I don't know if you're right about that," Hermione shook her head and Narcissa raised a weary brow.

"Trust me, Hermione. I know what I'm speaking of. Now, if you wouldn't mind excusing me, I need to change," Narcissa said, tightening the towel she was wrapped in. "Perhaps you could locate my son. I haven't seen him for three days."

Hermione nodded and dismissed herself quickly, slipping through the door and out into the now empty hall. Confusion filled her features as she look up and down the corridor, unsure of which way to turn or where she could even begin to look for Draco. She took a few tentative steps to her left, towards down the long hallway until she finally realized that she had no idea where she was going. After a moment's deliberation she clicked open the nearest door, surveying the new room.

There were no windows and yet the area was perfectly lit, invisible lights illuminating the crisp white walls and floors. In the centre of the room stood a mannequin which held obvious scorch marks around the edges, the rest of the room seemingly empty. Her eyes swept over the room once more, only to land on something she had not noticed before. In the corner there was a hunched over figure, shuddering slightly.

Draco.

Her heart broke. It had not been whole in a long time, but looking at him like this made it seem like there was a gaping hole in her chest. He had always been haughty and strong, never displaying his emotions. And now he appeared a shaking, sobbing wreck. Utterly broken. Without realizing quite what she was doing she crossed the room and sank down to the floor beside him. He jumped slightly at her touch when she wrapped her arm around his shoulders, but he leaned into her embrace. His head rested on her shoulder, his hair tickling the crook of her neck.

They sat like that for a long while, saying nothing, just letting everything flow between them as she held him close.

* * *

He could not seem to produce anymore tears, but movement at this point seemed impossible. She was so soft, so warm. He had missed warmth. He hadn't felt warmth and comfort like this in so long. He had always been cold when he was at school. That was how he had survived. After the war when he had been with Astoria he had been horrid. He couldn't deal with her with any level of compassion. When he had been in the muggle world it was all about staying afloat, keeping his head above water. He had felt almost human. But this was different. _This_ was so real. She was so _real_.

There was this incredible heat that seemed to radiate from her wherever her body met his. Even though there were layers of clothes between their skin, the warmth she gave him was almost uncomfortably hot, but he would not change it for anything in the world at this moment. They had said nothing since her arrival. The silence was wonderful. It was so peaceful, and he was so comfortable. He kept his eyes closed, relishing in the softness of her skin. At some point in his breakdown she had taken his hand, and now he ran this thumb over the soft, smooth skin that was the back of her hand. He couldn't seem to remember feeling anything so soft.

Of course, in the silence and comfort of the moment something had to disturb them, and it happened to be his stomach. He had not eaten since the night before, and that had just been a piece of bread and a glass of milk. His stomach protested once more and Hermione's shoulders began to bounce up and down with silent laughter. He opened his eyes and pulled away from her body, releasing everything but her hand, and looked at her.

"When did you last eat?" she asked, fighting a smile. He could see her lips threatening to twitch upwards and he realized that they were a very pretty pink. When he admitted that he hadn't eaten since the night before her eyes (So warm. Why had he not noticed them before?) widened. "Come on, then. You can't just not eat."

"I haven't been hungry," he shrugged when they stood.

"Well you obviously are now," she pointed out. "Actually, would you mind leading the way? I have absolutely no idea where we are," she admitted sheepishly. He felt the burbling desire to laugh but the smile nor the laughter would come. There was still a hole where his heart felt it should be.

He nodded and led her from the room, still not releasing her hand. She made no movement to remove her hand from his until they had reached the kitchens at which point she released herself from his grasp. Tipsy seemed delighted to see him up and about, albeit ruffled and unbathed. The elf immediately hurried Draco into a seat and bustled around for a few moments before returning with a plate of pork chops. His mouth watered and Hermione smiled encouragingly at him. She remained standing, and he realized that she seemed a bit standoffish despite her facial expression.

"What?" he asked after he was halfway through his plate of food. She had been saying nothing, but she was frowning at him. "Why are you acting like this?"

"I'm wondering where Pansy is," she said simply, crossing her arms tightly. He regretfully pulled his eyes away from the cleavage that was pushed up by this action. "Shouldn't _she_ be the one comforting you?"

"What?" he asked again, his fork paused midway to his mouth. What on earth was she talking about?

"Pansy. You know, the woman who was in your apartment the other day wearing your dressing gown," she said. His eyes narrowed.

"What the fuck are you on about?" he dropped his fork. He didn't need this. Not now. Not after everything that had happened. He didn't fucking need this.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," her voice sounded sad. It made it harder to be angry at her when she looked at him with her wide eyes. "I don't know what we had but I thought we had something, and then I saw Pansy at your house. I guess I was wrong."

"Are you insane, Granger?"

"Don't!" she shrieked, her mood changing faster then he thought possible. "Don't you _dare_! I wanted there to be something. I was so sure that there was something, but then you went ahead and screwed Pansy."

"_That's_ what you think?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, that's what I think!"

"And you really think that _now_ is the appropriate time for you to bring up your little relationship insecurities? Now that my father is _dead_?" he bellowed. Silence hung in the air for a moment and then the realization hit him. Lucius was truly dead, and all at once there was the dreadful emptiness that ached in his chest and he wanted her once more. He wanted her warmth and her safety, but now she wouldn't come near him.

"Draco, I-," she began.

"Don't," he said hollowly. "Don't fucking bother. You're obviously so determined that this isn't going to work. I don't need your shit right now. Just leave."

* * *

They stood there for a minute, staring at each other. She wished she could look away, but his icy orbs seemed to drag her in. He wanted her to leave, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. She felt this unmistakeable pull towards him, like they were designed to fit together. She wanted to be close to him, but his eyes were so full of despair and anger that she knew leaving would be the safest thing to do.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured finally, turning on her heel to leave. She wanted him to stop her. She wanted him to grab her wrist and pull her back. Hell, she wanted to turn back herself and hold him until all of his sadness evaporated, but instead she just walked away.

**

* * *

A/N: This is really late and really short. I don't have any excuses, but I am working on a Rose/Scorpius oneshot at the moment which is going to be huge. Anyway, it would appear that Draco and Hermione are having some communication difficulties. **

**Please review!**


	21. Chapter 21

"Talk to him."

"What?"

"You heard me. Talk to him."

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

"Dumb doesn't look good on you, Hermione," Ginny sighed irritably. "He's going to need you tomorrow."

Hermione swallowed thickly. Tomorrow was the day of Lucius' funeral, and Ginny was right. Narcissa would need her. _Draco_ would need her. "I know, Gin," she finally said. "I'm going tomorrow, and I'll talk to him there."

"And for Merlin's sake, _be tactful_. You're my best friend, but you acted entirely out of line with him. His father just _died_. You don't exactly have the right to barge in there and act like you did."

"Dammit, I _know_!" Hermione snapped. "I was upset and I was angry and for once in my life I didn't think and let my emotions get the best of me. I know I need to remedy the situation, and I know I was stupid."

"Good," Ginny nodded. "Hurry up and snog him and get over it all."

* * *

Draco felt as though he could hardly breathe.

He sat beside his mother, clutching her hand with desperation to match her own, taking short, shallow breaths as the guests filed in. Before him lay his father's coffin, the mahogany exterior almost entirely invisible beneath the piles of flowers which adorned it. The air was sickly sweet and Draco could hardly stand to inhale for the assault on his senses made him want to gag.

He could hear a few people having muffled conversations but he paid them no mind. He couldn't look away from the display in front of him. He wanted to get out of there. He wanted to run, to fly, to escape. The atmosphere was stifling. He gripped his mother's hand tighter. There was movement all around him but he still could not look away. In fact, there was a distinct amount of movement to his mother's left, and he could see it barely out of the corner of his eye.

All at once a surreal hush fell over the people gathered and Draco assumed that someone was to begin speaking. As he expected, there was the low hum of someone's voice droning on about his father, about how he was a _good man_ and how he _loved his family_. Draco could barely distinguish the words from the ringing in his ear matched with the soft sniffles and sobs of others. His mother sat stoically beside him, not moving, tears silently streaming down her pale cheeks beneath the black veil she had donned.

At last the speaker summoned people up to say their final farewells to Lucius Malfoy and Draco stood with his mother. He caught a shimmer of light in the corner of his eye and turned to see what it was. And there She was. His eyes soaked in the sight of Her, red-rimmed eyes but otherwise perfectly manicured appearance. She met his gaze with watery brown eyes and he wanted to reach out to Her, to sit together like they had before.

She looked away after a moment and they magic was broken. He turned away from his father's coffin, feeling the horrible lump of emotion he knew too well form in his throat as he strode directly down the aisle between and out through the doors. Once he reached the marble floors he broke into a run, not knowing, nor caring, where he was going. His breaths came in ragged, broken gasps as he burst through the back doors and launched himself into the snow covered gardens. He trudged along the slush, his black slacks dampening and his socks soaking themselves through before he finally reached the shelter of his mother's greenhouse.

He flicked his wand and rushed through the now unlocked door, the warmth enveloping him as he let out a shaky sigh. As he allowed himself to calm down he paced amongst the rows of plants, running his hand over smooth stems and inhaling the sweet scent of delicate flowers. He was so immersed in tracing the intricate patterns on the leaf of a particular miniature shrub that he did not hear the door open nor the muffled footsteps approach.

"Hi."

He jumped, wrenching his wand out and whirling around to face the visitor. Hermione stood before him, snow dusting through her hair, and indication that it had begun snowing again. The lightly freckled skin on her face was flushed with cold and her black suit was dotted with white. He raised his wand once more and she looked as though she were about to recoil until he flicked it and the snow disappeared.

"I'm so sorry," she said.

He reached her in less than a heartbeat, crushing her to his body with a strong embrace. He felt her arms wind their way around his body as he buried his face into her hair, breathing her in deeply. She began to shake slightly in his arms and he tightened his hold on her.

"Why are you crying?" he murmured after a few moments, feeling her tears soak through his shirt.

"I've ruined everything," she muttered and he slackened his grip, moving his hands to her upper arms and shifted her back slightly so he could look into her watery chocolate eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Draco asked incredulously and her lower lip quivered dangerously, a few more tears rolling down her cheeks. He brushed them away gently with his thumb and she inhaled sharply. "What have you ruined?"

"This," she gestured vaguely at the air between them. "_Us_. You're not going to want anything to do with me now. I was so _stupid_. I just took everything at face value and didn't even think about it. And then I brought it up after your father and just stopped talking to you. I can't believe myself."

"Are you insane?" he said. "You're still here, aren't you? I'm still holding you. I haven't hexed the hell out of you. I need you."

"But what about the things I said?" Hermione sniffled. "I was horrible to you. I just walked out on you."

"You have been known to have a temper," he smiled wryly and Hermione gave him a weak grin back. "Look, we all make mistakes. Hell, I've made more mistakes than either of us, and they've been worse than saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. You may have been a bitch, but I'm a bastard, and at the end of the day, I still want you."

Hermione looked as though she were about to cry again, but this time she pressed her lips to his with such force that he stumbled back slightly, regaining his balance when he bumped into one of the benches. He wound his arms around her waist and she tangled her fingers into his hair as he deepened the kiss, running his tongue over her lower lip until she allowed entry into her mouth.

When they finally broke apart they were both flushed and breathing heavily. Draco smirked lazily at her and she grinned back. "You really do want me?" she clarified.

"No, I just thought I'd snog you for the kicks," he rolled his eyes. "I need to check on my mother and make sure the guests have gone."

Hermione nodded and followed him out of the greenhouse, back through the fresh snow until Malfoy Manor loomed before them. They climbed the stairs together, shivering against the cold until they passed through the doors and into the entrance hall where the guests were gradually milling out.

"I'm so glad you could reappear," Narcissa said quietly, appearing at Draco's side. "Have you two made up again?"

"Yes, Mother," Draco nodded stiffly. "How are you?"

"I'm perfectly adequate considering the circumstances. I will be fine."

"Good. Would you mind if I went home or would you prefer I stayed the night?"

"If it's fine with you, and of course with you, Hermione, would you mind staying for dinner at least? We have some affairs to discuss," Narcissa turned to lead them away from the front doors as the last guests left, instead choosing to retire to the front parlour room where tea awaited them. "The contents of Lucius' will need to be discussed, and he has left us all something."

"All of us?" Hermione blurted out. "Me?"

"Yes, dear," Narcissa handed her a cup of tea, sipping at her own daintily. "I'm not yet sure what he has bequeathed to you but a representative from the Ministry will be here later this evening to discuss it all. Until then, where do you two stand?"

Draco snorted into his tea and received a disparaging look from his mother when he emerged from his cup, tea dripping from the tip of his nose. "What do you mean?" he spluttered and Narcissa rolled her eyes in his direction.

"You know perfectly well what I mean, Draco. Are you two an official 'couple'?"

"Do you mean can you announce it to the Prophet?" Draco said as he wiped his face clean with a handkerchief. "I haven't a clue."

"Perhaps Hermione will be more receptive to my questioning," Narcissa turned to face the brunette who was sipping sheepishly at her tea, eyes on the polished floors. "What are your intentions with my son?"

"You make it sound as though she's a whore," Draco muttered.

"Language!" Narcissa chided him. "I was simply wondering if this was going to be more than a brief fling."

"Well, um, we haven't exactly reached a point where we can _define_ our...relationship," Hermione said slowly, picking each word with great care so as not to put Draco off or shock Narcissa. "I suppose at this point we are simply going to see where everything falls and go from there."

"That sounds like a very wise choice given your tumultuous past," Narcissa nodded her head, her lips turning upwards ever so slightly. "At this point I'm simply happy to see that you two have both come to your senses. Granted, it is a surprising choice to anyone who does not know both of you, but you are really quite similar."

"Not likely," Draco snorted and Narcissa raised a brow at her son. "She's stubborn and short-tempered and too bloody righteous."

"Hey!" Hermione protested, putting her tea back on the table. _I'm_ stubborn? _I'm_ short-tempered?"

"Yes, that's what I said," Draco said impatiently and Hermione glared at him.

"Talk about the pot calling the kettle black," she grumbled, leaning back into her chair with crossed arms. Draco thought she looked like a grumpy child when she stuck out her lower lip and the thought made him smirk.

He wondered what she had been like as a child. He could imagine her with the bushy hair and big teeth she had had during their first few years at school together, but he wanted to know other things. Had she always been such a bookworm? Had she always been brilliantly smart and talented? Sitting there with her and his mother he realized that he knew next to nothing about the astounding witch and the thought worried him. How in Salazar's name were they supposed to start a relationship – if that was what this was – if they scarcely knew who the other was?

* * *

"To my beautiful wife, I leave the promise of my eternal love and Malfoy Manor which I hope will remain her home for many more years. To my only son, Draco, I leave you the holiday houses in France, Italy, Spain and Greece, the key to your trust fund which has accumulated a great deal of money over the years, and the ring which I hope you will promise to the person you wish to live out the rest of your days with, the Malfoy family ring.

"And finally to Miss Hermione Granger. I offer you my sincerest apologies for the harm that I have caused you and your friends in the past, and my blessing to continue your romance with my son. His happiness is what should matter, not the archaic beliefs of an old man. Look after him as I am sure he will look after you."

The Ministry official rolled up his parchment, tipped his hat to the three occupants of the room and stepped into the fireplace, vanishing in a flash of green. Narcissa had tears slowly rolling down her cheeks and Draco was gripping to Hermione's hand as though it were a lifeline. Hermione was utterly speechless. She could not grasp the fact that Lucius Malfoy had been content to allow Draco to pursue her, and he could hardly believe that he had apologized.

She was grateful for the chair that supported her weight and she was thankful that she had something to hold onto, namely Draco's hand which sat in his lap. His tight grip kept her grounded and the safety provided made her feel a little bit better, a little bit more comfortable.

"Perhaps we should call it a night," she finally spoke first after a handful of minutes had passed in contemplative silence. Narcissa stood and swept silently from the room before Hermione could say another word and she stared at the spot where the older witch had just been sitting, only noticing Draco standing when he tugged lightly on her hand. "I should be getting home."

"No," he said hoarsely. "Remember how I said I need you? I need you right now."

She nodded and followed him without a word. She allowed him to lead her up to an elaborately decorated with a large bed in the centre. He kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his suit jacket, untucking the crisp shirt he wore below from his pants before lying down on the bed. She followed suit, taking off her own jacket and removing her heels, lying on the pillow beside his.

Draco's hand lifted and brushed a tendril of hair from her face, trailing his fingertips down her cheek, along her jaw and to her lips where they stayed. She reached out and cupped his cheek in her hand, letting her fingers play with the strands of white blonde hair that hung into his face. She shifted closer until their foreheads rested against one another, not saying a word and not making any other contact aside from their hands and heads.

At some point, it could have been minutes, it could have been hours, Draco fell asleep. He had allowed a few tears to escape from his eyes during that time and she had said nothing, merely held him while he let his emotions run free.

Watching him sleep now, though, she wanted to talk to him. She wanted to know how he had come to be like this, so convoluted and impossible to unravel. He was a mystery to her and she had always been one to solve puzzles. He was charming and cocky and a bastard, but she wanted to know about him. She wanted _him_ and everything that came with him. She vowed that when they woke in the morning they would talk, and she would find out all that there was to know about Draco Malfoy.

**

* * *

A/N: I'm not even going to bother trying to defend how freaking late this is. It's ridiculous, I know. On the other hand, happy birthday to me for yesterday! **

**Anywho, I hope you enjoyed this (tiny/crappy) update. I don't know when the next one will be out, I'm drowning in assessment and writing two other fanfictions, one Dramione and the other Rose/Scorpius, so look out for those at some point!**


	22. Chapter 22

"Your favourite colour?"

"Red."

"Red?" Draco snorted. "Such a Gryffindor."

"I'll bet _your_ favourite is green," Hermione teased and he shook his head. "Really? What is it?"

"Midnight blue," he corrected her. "Green gets old after a while, particularly when you've spent the entirety of your life growing up in dark green surroundings."

"Hence the lack of Slytherin colour scheme in your house," she nodded thoughtfully.

It was one week since the funeral and they were lying on Draco's bed. They had spent much of their time since then just being around each other, not necessarily talking or interacting, but growing accustomed to the other's presence. Neither wanted more than what they had at that moment, both content to simply lie in the presence of their partner.

"Precisely," Draco said. "But now I have a serious question."

His face took on a stony expression and Hermione sat up, crossing her legs beneath her. "What is it?" she asked as Draco propped himself up on one elbow. They had rarely delved into any serious issues in their discussions.

"Look, I know you're concerned with how your..._friends_," he wrinkled his nose at the word, "will react, but hell, we're going to have to leave the house sometime. _Together_."

Hermione's brows knitted together and she pulled away from Draco's hand which was lazily stroking her knee. Instead she clambered off the bed. "What are you saying?" she asked, turning away from him and instead picking up the book which lay on his dresser.

"I'm asking you when you're going to find some of that bloody Gryffindor courage, suck it up, and tell your friends that you're seeing me," she heard Draco shift on the bed and assumed that he was sitting up until his arms encircled her waist. "They'll get over it."

She pulled away from him once more. "You don't get it," she sighed. "They're the first friends I ever had. We've stuck together through _everything_. They hate you, Draco. I don't know if they'll stick by me through this. I can't lose them. I _won't_ lose them."

Draco ran an irritable hand through his hair. "Bloody hell, Hermione! If they love you and care for you as much as you say they do, then who you're seeing shouldn't matter to them. Hell, your personal life is _yours_, not theirs," he had sat back on the bed and she turned to face him.

"You think I don't know that?" she snapped, her temper quickly rising. "I need to figure out the right way to tell them, unless you would rather Harry and Ron came after you?"

"Oh, I have no idea how you could tell them," he replied sarcastically. "How about 'Hi, I'm shagging Draco Malfoy, I thought you should know'?"

"You are insufferable, and at the rate you're going I will never sleep with you. I haven't sunk that low yet," she grabbed her bag. "Come and find me when you stop being such a prat, Draco. Can't you just accept my choice?"

She turned away from him again, this time heading to the front door. Once she had let it slam behind her she found her wand and apparated back to her home, ignoring Draco's yells of protest as he chased after her.

Part of her knew that he was right, but a larger part was too stubborn to admit it. She did need to tell Harry and Ron. It would be better for them to hear it from her than if they were to read about it in the papers. Ginny had already deduced that she was seeing Draco, but was sworn to secrecy by Hermione. But it was only a matter of time until some sneaky photographer snapped a photograph of her and Draco together, and then all hell would break loose. It would be _far_ better if she told Ron, at least. His temper would always get the better of him, and she was certain he would think she was under some form of curse.

Walking into her bedroom her eyes were immediately drawn to the photograph of her, Harry and Ron standing arm in arm. The frame sat on her bedside table and she let out a sigh. She had to tell them.

Dressing into something a little more proper, for she had been dressed in rather daggy clothes when she had been at Draco's, she contemplated what she would say by way of announcement to her friends. She had been acting out of line with them lately, what with taking Teddy to meet Draco and hexing Ron, so she felt she had an awful lot to make up for. She would apologize and then drop the bombshell. Perhaps that would soften the blow. No, she thought. Nothing would soften the blow.

Apparating to Harry and Ginny's house, where she was sure Ron would be visiting, she climbed the front stairs slowly. She wished she could put this off longer. She wished she could go back to Draco's house where they had been telling each other silly secrets and asking pointless questions. She wished that she hadn't decided to go all Gryffindor and suddenly tell her friends this, but it was too late now because she was knocking on the door.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, surprise evident in his features when he opened the door. "Hey, long time no see. Come in?"

"Thanks, Harry," she smiled, entering and giving him a warm hug. "Is Ron here?"

"Yeah, he's in the kitchen with Gin. Come on," Harry began to lead the way. "How've you been? I haven't seen you since Christmas, and that was a bit...eventful, shall we say."

"That's probably the safest word to use," Hermione agreed, following him down the stairs and into the kitchen where Ron and Ginny were seated, laughing over something. Ron immediately sobered when he caught sight of Hermione. "Hi, guys," she greeted them nervously. Ginny beamed at her whilst Ron looked suspicious.

"I'll make some tea," Harry offered and Hermione sat down at the kitchen table, directly across from Ron. They waited until there was a steaming mug of tea in front of everyone before resuming conversation. "What've you been up to?"

"Oh, you know, work, the usual," she lied. She could feel her resolve slowly dripping away.

"Did you hear about old Malfoy kicking the bucket?" Ron asked and Hermione fought the urge to kick him under the table.

"I did," she said shortly.

"Bloody bastard must've offed himself. He should have done it a long while ago," Ron concluded, Harry nodding in silent agreement. Hermione scowled.

"Actually, no, Lucius didn't commit suicide," she corrected them, and they looked at her. "He had been dying for a long time. The torture that was inflicted upon him whilst he was part of Voldemort's inner circle included a spell which slowly decayed his insides. He'd been in agony for years, only he didn't want anyone to know. He paid the price for what he did. He donated countless sums of money to rebuild our world, and I won't have you speaking ill of him."

"How would you know what killed him?" Ron asked, his face once again suspicious.

"Because, in case you've forgotten, I'm friends with Narcissa," she retorted and Ron fell silent. "Look, this isn't going how I had planned. One of the reasons why I came today was to apologize. I've been acting out of sorts lately. I'm sorry for hexing you, Ron," his face softened and he managed a small smile in her direction, "and I know I shouldn't have taken Teddy out without letting you know first, Harry."

"I've already forgiven you for that, Hermione," Harry reached over and gave her hand a reassuring pat. "What's the _real_ reason you're here?"

She took a deep breath. "Well, I'm seeing someone," she gave a weak smile.

"Hermione, that's brilliant!" Harry grinned. Ron did not look as pleased but he wasn't reacting badly, either. "Do we know who he is?"

Hermione lowered her eyes to her half empty cup, chewing on her lip. "Yeah, Harry. You do."

"Well?" Ron asked, his tone barely demanding in the slightest. "Who is it?"

Looking up from her drink, Hermione's eyes flickered to Ginny's face. The redhead gave her an encouraging smile, motioning for her to go on. "Draco Malfoy," Hermione finally said.

The reaction was not what she had expected. Instead of the yelling she had predicted, there was total silence. Ron's jaw had dropped and Harry was looking at her with wide eyes, but neither seemed angry. Yet. Ginny was observing the boys' reaction in silence, having already heard the news. She had reacted wonderfully, embracing Hermione and demanding all the juicy details, not that there were any at that stage.

"How long has this been going on?" Harry was the first to break the tense silence, his voice surprisingly level.

"For about a week. Since Lucius' funeral," Hermione replied immediately. Any delay would give cause for more interrogation. "Speaking of Lucius, he apologized in his will. He apologized for everything he did."

"Don't change the subject," Ron said, his voice far less level than Harry's had been. "Why are you seeing _him_? He tortured you all through school. He was horrible to us. Or have you forgotten all of that?"

"No, Ron, I haven't," Hermione spoke quietly, not wanting to lose her temper. "But I've forgiven him. He's changed. I don't expect you to _like_ the fact that I'm seeing Draco, but I expect you to accept it. I don't want to fight over my personal life, and you aren't going to change my mind."

"Then answer me this: why Malfoy?" Ron whined and Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes at his tone.

"Because I like him, Ron. He's smart, witty and charming, and he may be a bastard sometimes, but we can all be horrid," she pointed out. "I'm interested in him because he's something different, and I want to be with him." Neither of them seemed to know what to say to that. "I should probably go. Let me know if you guys still want to be friends," she smiled weakly. "I'll show myself out."

She was up and climbing the stairs before they could say another word. The silence that followed her up the stairs was suffocating and she nearly broke into a run. Fumbling with the latch on the door, she at last broke outside where rain had started to fall heavily. She was soaked through before she could even make it to the nearby apparition safe point, and when she did reach it her fingers where frozen. She finally withdrew her wand from her purse and twirled on the spot, reappearing outside Draco's house.

She knocked on the door several times, grateful for the cover the porch provided her with. The door opened at last and she gave him a tiny smile. "I told them."

"Jesus, you're soaked," Draco pulled her into the warmth of his house, quickly peeling off her sopping cardigan and discarding it in the corner. Her teeth chattered and he sat her on the couch, disappearing into his bedroom. She wasn't quite sure why she had chosen to come see him, or why she had left in such a hurry. Sure, the reaction of her friends had not been positive, but they were hardly shunning her from their house. "Here." Draco returned and thrust some dry clothes at her.

"Thanks," she said as her teeth clicked together.

"I'll get you something to drink while you get out of those clothes," he left the room and she wormed her way out of her shirt and pants, kicking off her boots as she went. It wasn't until she was down to her underwear that she realized he had given her one of his shirts and a pair of boxers, but she wasn't in any position to confront him. She tugged on the clothes, grateful for their dryness, and padded to the kitchen.

"They didn't take it badly," she said, leaning against the doorway. He looked over his shoulder at her, eyes flicking over her body in approval. She blushed under his gaze and he smirked.

"If they didn't take it badly then why did you end up on my doorstep absolutely soaked?" he handed her a cup of hot chocolate and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. "Tell me about it."

They returned to the living room where they sat together on the couch, her leaning into his warmth. "They didn't yell. They don't know what I see in you, and they don't understand how I can be with you after everything you put me through," she sighed wearily. "Sometimes _I_ don't even understand it."

He took a sharp breath in. "I've told you a thousand times before, I'm sorry for what I did to you when we were kids," he brushed the hair from her eyes, traipsing his fingers delicately through her curls. "What _do_ you see in me?" he pressed his lips to the top of her head, inhaling the smell of her shampoo eagerly, the scent somewhat clouded by the smell of rain.

"A lot," she admitted.

"Tell me," his voice was low and she bit down on her lower lip, unsure of where she should begin.

"Your eyes," she decided on. "They're amazing. When the rest of your face is blank, your eyes tell a different story. They're so deep, and I could melt in their colour. I don't even know how to describe it. It's like the most beautiful ice blue has intertwined itself with a glorious shade of silver, and there are tiny flecks of dark grey in there too. When you're angry they get darker, and when you're happy and so carefree they're almost entirely blue. I lose myself in them."

"What else?" he murmured, carefully shifting her hair to the side to expose the elegant curve of her neck to him. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss to the exposed skin and she shivered against him.

"Your brain," she continued as he stroked a lazy pattern across her skin. "I can hold a decent, intelligent conversation with you. I don't feel like I have to dumb anything down for you, and I don't have to explain myself numerous times for you to get the message. I can just say it and you understand immediately."

"That all?" he asked, prying the empty mug from her hands. He leaned over, pulling her with him, and placed it on the table before readjusting their position on the couch. He pressed himself up against the back of the couch and rolled her to her side so she faced him, their noses mere centimetres apart, electricity dancing between their features.

"You're genuine," she said, her voice slightly strained. Everything was moving so quickly. "You're not afraid to say what you think, even if it'll offend me, and you seem to want to actually get to know me. Which is a shock, given our past."

"The same could be extended to you," he said quietly. "Thank you for giving me a chance."

This was one of those moments which Hermione had not quite gotten used to. Draco's gaze had become intense, his eyes pale and face serious. She wasn't sure what to expect when he got pensive like this. She was unsure if she should speak, unsure if she should even move. It wasn't until he reached up in the small gap between them and tucked her hair behind her ear that she let out her breath and he grinned.

"What should we do for the rest of the evening?" Hermione asked, moving to sit up to see the clock. She managed to catch a glimpse which read five o'clock before Draco pulled her back down.

"I've got a few ideas," he smirked and she scowled at him.

"You're disgusting," she accused, but her eyes were sparkling with humour. He winked at her and pressed his lips to her own, smiling into the kiss when she let out a happy sigh. Her hands came up and tangled themselves in his hair, pressing their bodies closer together and deepening the kiss. He ran his tongue slowly across her lower lip, begging for permission which she easily granted. Their tongues battled for dominance, a fight which Draco ultimately won, and he explored every inch of her mouth.

"You taste so sweet," he breathed when they at last broke apart. "Like apples."

She smiled at him, pressing her lips against his one last time for a quick peck. "How about we go out for dinner?"

"Really?" Draco asked. "As in we go to somewhere in the wizarding world and eat? And announce our relationship?"

"Yes," she said, still smiling demurely. "We may as well. Everyone important knows now."

"Are you insane?" he asked, leaning up. Hermione moved with him and they readjusted into a sitting position. "This morning you were entirely against letting anyone know, and now all of a sudden you just want to announce it to the whole world? What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing," she replied, smile fading. She hated how he could twist anything she said. "I thought you wanted this. I thought you wanted to let people know that we're a couple."

"I _do_ want this, but I don't want you to do this just because I want it," his face had softened.

"I want this too," she declared adamantly. "Let me go home and change quickly. Pick me up in half an hour. We'll go to a place in Diagon Alley."

"Okay..."

She grinned at him and jumped up from the couch, kissing him once more before grabbing her wand and discarded belongings, disappearing with a _pop_. The last thing she saw before she vanished was Draco's bemused expression, and she arrived in her lounge room smiling to herself.

* * *

Draco knocked on the front door of his witch's house, wondering what had gotten into her.

Up until this afternoon she had been so against telling the world about their coupling, and truthfully, he couldn't blame her. He was damn lucky Pansy had been as accepting as she had been, and even luckier that his mother had been the one trying to orchestrate the entire scheme. He had honestly not been expecting more than mere tolerance when he had been reintroduced to the fiery Gryffindor, but _this_ was far better. She was intoxicating. Fiery, passionate, beautiful, smart. Gods, if she wasn't so bloody stubborn and so much of a _Gryffindor_ then she might be perfect. The door swung open and he changed his mind.

_This_ was perfection.

As she blushed under his heated gaze he had half a mind to toss her over his back and run into her house, marking her as his own in a million different ways before the night was out. His eyes raked up and down her body appreciatively. He wouldn't be able to let her go for a single minute for fear that she would be whisked away, and for the sheer fact that she looked positively _delectable_. Salazar's soul, he would hardly be able to keep his hands off her.

Her dress was short, coming to midway down her thigh and bore no straps, instead pushing the creamy skin of her breasts up. The black lacy fabric was cinched at the waist with a belt and she had decorated herself with simple heels and, much to his liking, the necklace he had given her for Christmas.

"Is it too much? I should change." She had taken his silence horribly and she turned to retreat back into her house, her face still flushed with colour. He darted forward and captured her in a steely embrace, pulling her body against his.

"You can only change if you take off the dress and put nothing back on," he breathed into her ear, leaning down and nibbling on the lobe. She gasped at his actions and pressed herself closer against him.

"But then you wouldn't get the satisfaction of announcing to the world that I'm yours," she replied quietly, pressing her lips to the corner of the jaw. "And we all know that right now, that's what you want more than anything."

"True," he murmured. "But at this moment, I'm almost more tempted to shag you senseless."

"Maybe later," she grinned wickedly at him and he took in a sharp breath. "Right now, I'm starving. Shall we?"

He finally released her and pulled out his wand as she grabbed for his other hand. They spun together and appeared in Diagon Alley, outside a small but pricey restaurant that had recently opened up.

"We probably should've booked," she frowned when they took in the crowds of people obviously waiting for a seat.

"Please," he snorted. "You're a war hero and I'm a Malfoy. I doubt we'll have much trouble getting a seat."

Indeed, just as he had said, they were seated almost immediately. Hermione mumbled quick apologies to the customers who had been waiting before them but he simply swept to their allocated seat, pulling her with him.

"Lavender Brown is sitting just over there," Hermione said quietly after ten minutes had passed and they were waiting for their meals.

"Well then, let's give her a show."

Before she could respond he had placed his hand on her knee and was sliding it up her leg. "Draco!" she shrieked, attracting the attention of the other patrons at the restaurant, including the nosy gossip reporter. Hermione's face filled with colour as Lavender's eyes widened and she immediately dove into her purse, pulling out a quill and slip of parchment.

"There we go. Now the whole world will know," he winked at his witch and she scowled.

**

* * *

A/N: Weow, quick update by my standard! I hope you like it, because I kind of do. There'll be more on their announcement in the next chapter as well as reactions of their friends. Pleasepleaseplease review! **


	23. Chapter 23

**Warning: This chapter contains some mildly sexually explicit content. Do not read if easily offended. **

* * *

Hermione frowned as she examined the moving picture in the Prophet. It was a photograph of her and Draco standing outside the restaurant they had visited the night before. Their bodies seemed to be glued together as the photograph captured a passionate embrace between the two. The crease between Hermione's brow had been caused by the caption beneath, no doubt written by Lavender Brown or somebody equally as horrible, reading _Hermione Granger gets her claws into yet another wizard._

Her claws! She was well aware of the fact that she had been creating quite a stir in the gossip world, first breaking up with Ron, then her brief fling with Charlie, and now her entirely unexpected relationship with Draco, but that hardly made her a harpy of some kind. With a disgruntled sigh she read the rest of the article, which took up four pages, her brow furrowing more and more with each rude phrase and horrid expectation of the paper.

Just as she finished reading, the roar of flames in her lounge room alerted her to the fact that she had a visitor. Looking up from the kitchen table at the noise, she saw Draco standing in the doorway.

"Hey," she said quietly, gesturing for him to take a seat. He reached the table, leaned over and gave her a quick kiss which made her heart pound faster than usual, and sat across from her. "You've seen the paper?"

"It's a nice picture," Draco shrugged and Hermione cracked a smile. "I couldn't really expect anything more from the Daily Prophet, and I was expecting something much more obscene from Brown as it is. Though the claims that I'm still a Death Eater and you're my virgin sacrifice for some ancient ritual to resurrect the Dark Lord is a little...off."

"Particularly seeing as I've been married and all," she chuckled.

"And pregnant," Draco added.

"Yeah, that too," her tone was stiffer now, something she could never avoid when she was talking about her failed pregnancies. "Would you like a cup of tea? I think I would." She stood and turned away from the table, catching Draco's frown from the corner of her eye. Carefully, she prepared the cups of tea the muggle way. Draco remained completely silent during her five minute absence but she could feel his gaze on her back as she moved about the kitchen.

"Have you ever really talked about it?" were the first words out of his mouth when she sat down and she shook her head as she placed the tea down. "You should."

"No, I shouldn't," she shook her head adamantly. "Talking about it only makes it worse. Only makes me see how much I've failed."

"Failed?" Draco asked, gobsmacked. "How in Merlin's name have you failed? You miscarried. It happens to thousands of women."

"Not witches," she turned her eyes to her tea, staring into her cup. "Witches don't miscarry."

"My mother did," he pointed out. "When I was four. It was the worst time of my life. She had been so _happy_. So entirely carefree. She said I was going to have a baby sister, and that I'd have to look after her. Protect her with my life if I had to. And I promised I would, just like I said I'd never let Mum get hurt. My little sister was the most important in thing in my world, and she wasn't even close to being born.

"And then one day, I was out in the garden with Pansy. We were playing around, and I was telling her that she'd have to help my baby sister with all the girly stuff. Pansy's a couple of months younger than me, so I already treated her like she was my little sister at the time, but Gods, I was so excited to have my own, real little sister. But that day, when we were out in the garden, chasing the peacocks, Mum was inside and my father was at work. Mum was with the elves, up in the library, but even from the very edge of the garden I heard her scream.

"It was horrible. It was a scream which chilled me to the bone and I forgot all about the peacocks and Pansy and the only thing that was on my mind was my mum. I raced back into the house and ran all the way to the library. When I got there, Mum was lying there on a couch, and the fire was green as Healers came running into the room. All I saw was red on her robes and her exhausted and pained face before a Healer grabbed me and tossed me from the room.

"I didn't see her for a week. My father was allowed to see her, but they wouldn't let me go into her room. It was the worst week of my life, which is saying something compared to everything in my past. And then, when I finally was allowed to see her, she was utterly lifeless, like a dummy. She just looked at me with big, sad eyes, her hair all knotted and dirty and her face caked with tears. She was just a shell of herself. She didn't return to normal for months. It was only on my fifth birthday that she really seemed to become herself again, in the midst of my party.

"She was gone for almost a year. She would barely respond to my questions. I was _four_. Seeing my mum like that was absolute horror. That baby, that little girl, was the most important thing in our world. And she was gone, just like that, and I lost Mum with her too," Draco finished, his eyes cloudy and voice thick.

Hermione felt a huge barrier drop and she realized that she had been crying during Draco's story. She reached out across the table and grasped his hand tightly and his brilliant silver eyes met hers. "They told me I needed to go to a counsellor, to hear other women's stories," she said quietly and he nodded for her to continue. "After the first miscarriage, when I was heartbroken. They said there were support groups for witches who had lost their babies, and that I needed to tell my story. But I went to one, and every witch there had miscarried, but they also had other children. They had either had them before the miscarriage or after, and I was the only one there with nothing.

"Their eyes were so full of pity. I was Hermione Weasley. I was meant to be amazing, perfect at everything, and I couldn't even have a damn baby. I left halfway through the first session and never looked back. Ginny tried to get me to talk, and so did Harry. Ron...he just wanted a child. He didn't seem to understand that I was hurting _so much_. Nobody seemed to understand just how empty and utterly pathetic I was feeling. But still, I got pregnant again. Ron said that a baby would help me move on, and even though I didn't really believe him, I let him. I got pregnant again.

"It was one of the worst periods of my life. Something inside me, a small part of me, knew that I would miscarry again, but I ignored it. And then I miscarried. Gods, I was ruined. I kept telling myself that I had been right, that I hadn't been ready to have children, but Ron and Molly were so persistent. They were still so adamant about me having kids, but at that time I wanted nothing more than to curl up and die. I felt awful. I was so empty. I couldn't bring myself to smile, but I couldn't even _cry_. I would just sit in my office and work, but then I couldn't work anymore. I would just sit there, glad to be alone, and think about everything. About my babies.

"But even after all of that, I let Ron do it to me again. I got pregnant again, and for the third time I miscarried, and it was the worst of all because through the whole ordeal, I had been so sure that I would miscarry, and then I did. After that, I realized what Ron had been doing. He had been so desperate for us to have a child that he just didn't even care about what it was doing to me. When he told me that he'd been cheating on me, truthfully, I hadn't been surprised. He had been increasingly absent, saying he was working late and everything," she shrugged.

"And that's why you left?" Draco asked quietly.

"I couldn't cope. I couldn't leave my house without getting pitiful looks from people, or hateful glares from those who actually thought that _I'd_ been the one to cheat on Ron. So I left. My charity had all but disintegrated thanks to the rumours the Prophet were spreading, and I had no reason to stay behind in the wizarding world. I have my parents in the muggle world. They let me stay with them for a while until I got back on my feet. I got my job working for Beedle, bought this place, and got back on my feet. But still, all I could think was that I had failed. I still felt so empty. I still do sometimes. But I go on. I work. I sleep. I eat. I breathe. And now I'm really getting back on my feet," she managed a weak smile and Draco took her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

"I don't want you to feel like that," his voice was quiet. "Ever. I want you to feel like the entire world is yours. Like you're invincible and incredible and that you're as perfect as everyone sees you to be."

Hermione's heart was in her throat. Everything that had passed between them that morning made her feel impossibly close to him. She had told him things that she had scarcely even admitted to herself. The wall that had stood between them for so long was finally coming down, and she was truly beginning to see the real Draco.

With slow movements she stood and walked to Draco's side of the table, pulling him up into a standing position. "Thank you," she said quietly and he cocked his head to one side in question. "For telling me what you did. For letting me tell you my story."

"That's what I'm here for," he said with a cocky grin. "Like it or not, I'm staying by you, at least for the time being, and I want to really know who you are. I want to know who you really are. I want to know why you're how you are. Damn it, Granger, I want you."

Hermione bit her bottom lip for a moment before pressing her lips eagerly against his, wrapping her arms around his neck. Shocked at her enthusiasm, Draco took a moment to respond, but when he did his excitement was double her own. He lifted her up so her legs wrapped around his body and walked until she was seated on the countertop of the kitchen bench. Hermione locked her ankles together, forcing Draco impossibly closer against her.

Her hands were tangled in his hair, whilst his were trailing down, slowly pushing the edges of her robe from her shoulders. When she didn't protest, he pushed the delicate garment down to reveal her creamy shoulders. She removed her hands from his hair briefly to slip her arms from the sleeves of the robe and he traced his hands down the sides of her silk nightgown, the hem of which was edging dangerously high on her thighs.

She worked at the buttons of his shirt, deftly unhooking them from their holes until it hung open on his torso. With his aid, the piece of clothing was tossed away in seconds and her hands were running all over the firm planes of his chest, eliciting a small moan from Draco. She realized that her nightgown was bunched up right at the top of her thighs and it was her turn to moan when Draco's hand trailed dangerously close to her centre. He smiled into their kisses at her sound but did not repeat the action.

She let out a gasp as his hand instead brushed across her cloth covered breast and her chest arched towards him. In their lust induced state of fiery kisses and passionate touches, neither of them noticed the sound of the fire roaring as a visitor arrived. Draco had placed his hands on her waist and pulled their bodies flush against each other's, their cores pressed together. The sleeves of Hermione's nightgown had fallen down and her torso was exposed, brushing against Draco's chest. They were entirely deaf to the sound of footsteps approaching as Draco's hips bucked into Hermione's, eliciting deep, loud moans from both parties.

"Herm-holy shit," Ginny's voice interrupted them, and this was a sound they most definitely heard. Draco's head whipped around as Hermione shrieked, tugging her clothing back into place before peering around Draco's frame. She knew her face was as red as a beet, a mixture of embarrassment and intense arousal. "OhmygodI'msosorry," Ginny said in a rush, covering her eyes with her hands and turning around quickly.

"Fuck," Draco muttered, stepping away from Hermione awkwardly. His hands had flown down to cover his crotch and Hermione knew that he had been more than ready for their encounter to proceed to the next level. "Here," he said, handing Hermione her robe as she slid down from the counter. "I...well...I'm going to go."

"Bye," she murmured. He went to leave but she grasped his wrist and pressed their lips together quickly before allowing him to leave. "It's alright, Gin, I'm not naked," Hermione sighed after pulling on her robe. She moved and picked up Draco's discarded shirt which he had left behind.

"Hermione, I'm _so_ sorry," Ginny gushed immediately, her face as red as her hair. "I had no idea. I saw in the paper and wanted to see how you were reacting, but I didn't expect you to be reacting like _that_."

Hermione allowed herself a smile. "I didn't think I'd react like that either," she said and Ginny's face flushed again as she laughed.

"I take it things are going well?" the redhead waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "You two were, ah, going at it, to say the least."

"Too right we were," Hermione snorted, thinking of Draco's expert touches and talented tongue. "He came over earlier, after the paper arrived this morning, and we got to talking about...things. And after we finished talking, I kind of threw myself at him."

"What on earth were you talking about to get you into a situation like that? Kinky kitchen sex fetishes?"

"No," Hermione chuckled. "We were just talking about some things that we hadn't told each other yet, and it was pretty heavy stuff, and after we finished, he said that he wanted me. Not in a sexual way, but just _me_ as who I am. And then I kissed him, and one thing led to another, and you know the rest."

"I know way more than I ever needed or wanted to, actually," Ginny added. "Was it about your miscarriages?" Hermione nodded once and Ginny's eyebrows flew up. "Seriously? But you've told, what, two other people?"

"Three," Hermione corrected her. "You and Harry and my mother. And now Draco makes four."

"Wow," Ginny breathed. "You must be serious about him if you told him all of that."

"I am, Gin," she said. "He told me really private things about himself. He's lying it all out on the table, so we can be honest from the start, as cheesy at it sounds. I think there's been enough bad in our relationship as it is. We don't need to lie."

"Well, I'm proud of you, Hermione," Ginny said. "You're opening up. Granted, I don't think anyone really expected it to be to Draco, but it's still good that you're letting someone else in. You deserve it."

The conversation turned to lighter topics and Hermione promised Ginny she'd visit with Draco at some point in the near future before the redhead finally dismissed herself. Hermione waved her off before her friend stepped into the fireplace and went to change into something more proper in case she had any more impromptu visits. Just as she finished changing into simple blue jeans, a white top and black cardigan, she heard the roar of the Floo.

Returning to the lounge room, she found Draco reclined on one of the sofas, Altheda perched next to him on the arm of the chair. The blonde was scratching behind the purring cat's ears, the loud vibrations filling the room. "Make yourself comfortable," Hermione laughed as Draco's head snapped up, startled by her silent arrival. He sat up, removing his legs from the couch and patting it softly in invitation to her. "Sorry about the interruption earlier."

"I left my shirt behind," Draco frowned as she sat beside him, lifting her legs up and tucking them beside her. She leaned gently against his body and he wrapped an arm around her. "What did Red want?"

"To see how I was going. I think she saw a little more than she bargained for, though," Hermione grinned and Draco chuckled. "But thanks for the...interesting morning."

"Interesting?" Draco asked, feigning offence. "Good interesting or bad interesting?"

"Brilliant interesting," Hermione amended. "Just not what I was expecting when I woke up this morning."

"We could always pick up where we left off," Draco suggested and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"And risk being walked in on again? Once is enough for me, today," she laughed, pushing away from him. "Besides, between your visit and Gin's, I've hardly had time to eat. I'm starved."

Draco stayed around while Hermione made herself a sandwich and brewed cups of tea for the both of them, and they sat at the kitchen table in a contented silence whilst they eat and drank. While Draco flicked through the paper, Hermione had chosen a muggle novel to keep her entertained. She couldn't help but think that the whole situation was blissfully simple, and she wished that it could all be like this.

Of course, wishes are very rarely answered, and Hermione was well aware of this fact, so when the Floo sounded again and Harry joined them in the kitchen, she knew the peace was gone for the time.

Harry froze at the sight of Draco sitting there glaring at him, but Hermione stood and embraced her best friend quickly. "Harry, sit. Would you like a cup of tea?" she asked as she pushed him forcefully into a chair and he nodded absently, still staring down Draco who had not lowered his gaze. "What brings you here?" Hermione asked, fixing another cup of tea with a flick of her wand. With another flick, the milk had made its way from the refrigerator and added just a splash into the cup and Hermione reached forward to take the cup to her friend.

"Ron's gone mental," Harry finally responded, looking away from Draco's steely gaze to accept the tea. "He read the article in the paper today and came storming over to my place, looking as though he could kill. Saying things like he thought you might've just been kidding around yesterday, and that Mal-..._Draco_ must have put you under a curse."

Draco snorted. "He's still as dumb as he looks."

Hermione flashed him a stern glare but he just shrugged. "What else?"

"Said he'll be paying you a visit," Harry frowned. "He's pretty pissed. Thinks you've lied to him pretty seriously, and you're just doing this to spite him."

"That's fucking ridiculous," Draco muttered, shaking his head as he looked back at the paper. "Harpies beat the Wasps by ninety points," he clarified, jabbing his finger down onto the paper. "But what the Weasel said was pretty ridiculous too. Not to mention stupid."

Hermione would see Harry bristling and noted how his hand flickered beneath the table. She was more than certain he was clutching his wand tightly. "Draco, how about you go and see Pansy, hm? Besides, I'm sure you'll have plenty of guests waiting to see you."

"I'm quite happy here, though I could do with a nap after our morning's activities," Draco threw a roguish wink in her direction and Harry blanched. "I'll go and have a lie down in your bedroom, and you can join me after Potter leaves."

Hermione was powerless to respond as Draco stood and strode from the room quickly. She heard her bedroom door close with a click and sighed.

"Right. Well, that's more than I'll ever want to know about your activities," Harry said hastily and Hermione informed him of what Ginny had said when she had visited earlier. She declined to mention her activities prior to Ginny's visit. "Look, just keep an eye and an ear out for Ron. I doubt he'd get violent, but he's pissed. Really pissed. I'll try and keep him subdued, and tell him what I know. And that I'm certain you're not cursed or poisoned."

"Thanks, Harry," Hermione said, truly grateful towards her friend.

"I, uh, better let you get back to Malfoy," Harry said, averting his eyes. "Have fun."

Hermione's cheeks flushed with pink as Harry took the Floo back home. Her cheeks tinged by a mixture of embarrassment and anger, she wheeled around and stomped up to her bedroom, throwing open the door with a flick of her wand. Draco, true to his word, was lying on her bed, legs crossed at the ankles and head propped up on the pillows, further elevated by his hands.

"Merlin, I love it when you're angry," he smirked, his cocky demeanour quickly fading when her wand turned on him. "Not _that_ angry."

"You are the most painful, irritating, annoying, arrogant, conceited prick that I've ever had the misfortune of knowing," Hermione accused, jabbing her wand towards her wizard with each word said against him, but she did no real damage. "Why is it that you're on my bed, then?"

"Because," he began, reaching out tentatively and prising her wand from her grasp, placing it safely on the end table, "I'm also incredibly handsome, witty, intelligent, and no doubt the most charming being to ever grace the surface of this planet."

His smirk had returned and Hermione smiled despite herself. He reached forward once more, this time to pull her to the bed to join him. She complied, landing on the bed with a very soft thump, and Draco immediately positioned himself atop her. Before she could complain his lips were on hers and she no longer saw any reason to protest, too caught up in the moment as his tongue demanded entry to her mouth. It was only ten minutes later when her cardigan had been discarded and Draco's hand had snuck beneath her top and was trailing close to her breast that she wriggled from his grasp.

"Gods, again?" he groaned in frustration. Hermione was annoyed herself. She had been thoroughly enjoying his touches. She sighed and nodded, kissing his lips one last time before pulling away entirely and righting herself. "Why?" Draco demanded.

"Harry said that Ron will be paying a visit, and I don't think he'd just be embarrassed by our situation as Ginny was," she explained and he nodded in agreement. Hermione moved to stand in front of the mirror, fixing her hair smoothing out her shirts. Draco moved behind her, and she almost protested when he grasped her hips firmly, but he shushed her.

She gasped as Draco pressed the bulge in his trousers against her lower back, pulling her body against his. "I want you to know that this," he emphasized his point by grinding slowly against her, "is how I feel about you. _I want you_, and what a Malfoy wants, a Malfoy gets." He pressed himself against her once more, rotating his hips softly and this time Hermione responded with force of her own. "Not now. I don't want the Weasel to castrate me before I get the chance to have you, but soon."

"Soon," she agreed, her insides tingling with anticipation and she turned in his grasp to kiss him firmly and passionately. When they broke apart he smirked at her and she heard the Floo roar as he vanished, leaving her wanting in his wake.

**

* * *

A/N: Long break between chapters, I know. School work has consumed much of my time, as well as work on my own fiction and a weeklong vacation to my favourite place in Australia. This chapter was a bit raunchier than what I'm used to writing, but hey, I kind of enjoyed writing it. The next one should have contact between Ron and Hermione, and maybe some more Draco and Hermione if you're lucky. Please review!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Warning: This chapter contains sexually explicit content. Do not read if easily offended.**

* * *

Barely five minutes after Draco had left, Hermione looked up from her novel to see the flames flickering green once more.

"Are you absolutely _mental_!" were the first words out of Ron's mouth, his face flaming as red as his hair. Hermione had set aside her book at the first sign of his arrival, her hand clutched tightly around her wand as a precaution.

"Hello, Ron," she said calmly. "Would you like to sit?"

Despite his anger, Ron sat in the seat across from her. She noticed the newspaper bunched up in his hand, the photograph of her and Draco replaying over and over again. "You weren't joking about dating Malfoy?" he asked, his voice quiet. Hermione saw this as a warning sign.

"Yes," she replied slowly. "I am serious about seeing Draco. Ron, I'm not doing this to hurt or spite you. I'm genuinely interested in Draco."

"But you're interested in _me_," Ron protested, his brilliant blue eyes pleading desperately with her. Hermione felt her heart tug as he looked at her with such desperation.

"Ron, I love you. I really, really do. But not in that way," Hermione lowered her eyes to the floor. "What we had was never going to work. We loved each other, sure, but we're better off friends. You're more like a brother to me. I'm sorry."

Ron was silent for a long time. He just stared absently at the wall behind her, his hands clenched into fists at his side, one around the wand and the other around the newspaper. "Your brother," he finally said. "I'm like your brother."

"Yes," she said quietly, her voice tainted by sadness.

"That's it?"

"Yes," she repeated and his eyes met hers. "Ron, I'm-"

"No, it's okay," Ron hushed her. "I think I need to figure out how I feel about you. Up until now, you've always just been _there._ But I agree. I don't think we're right for each other."

Hermione felt the air rushing out of her in a great gust and she allowed herself to relax fully, her grip on her wand slackening. "I don't want to lose you as a friend," she clarified.

"You won't," his voice was defiant. "As long as you want me here, friend or boyfriend or whatever, I'll be here."

The wave of emotion that overcame Hermione at that point was one of the strongest she had ever felt. Her gratitude towards Ron was the frontrunner. She had never believed that he would accept a decision like this, and his adamant attitude at maintaining their friendship moved her almost to the point of tears. She didn't even bother trying to restrain herself when she flung herself into his arms.

"Thank you," she whispered quietly into his ear as he squeezed her tightly. "Thank you so much." When they broke apart, Hermione was embarrassed to find that the emotion had entirely overcome her and she was forced to brush tears away from her cheeks. "We just need to find you someone to be with," she laughed and he flushed all the way to his ears. "Somebody _decent_."

"Anyone in mind, 'Mione?" he asked. "Because I could really use a shag."

"Ronald!" she exclaimed and he laughed at her reaction. She had decided to give up on chastising him for shortening her name as long as it didn't catch on. "We'll figure something out, I'm sure."

The conversation continued until darkness had begun to fall, at which point Ron decided he should leave after Hermione had hinted at Draco's arrival. She was truly sad to see her ex-husband depart. She hadn't realized, prior to that day, how much she truly enjoyed his company when he wasn't trying to get into her pants. It had reminded her of their Hogwarts days, with their light, playful banter.  
After clearing up the remnants of their afternoon snack, Hermione started to fix herself some dinner, and half an hour later she was curled back in her usual seat, a bowl of pasta on her lap and her novel propped up in her hand. Halfway through her meal, Altheda jumped up onto the arm of the chair and perched there, her purring the only sound to fill the room. Hermione was entirely content sitting there with her cat, a good book, and the blazing fire. The evening ended with a long, hot bath with two drops of jasmine oil and a good night's sleep.

* * *

"How is Hermione?" Narcissa asked Draco over tea, and the thoughts of their last encounter flooded his brain. Her body pressed against his. Grinding against each other. Their moans. Her skin against his. How much he bloody wanted her. He wanted her, and he would make her his very soon.

"Fine," he said nonchalantly. "She's back working at the library, but I'm seeing her on the weekend."

It was Thursday, and Draco honestly could not wait to see Hermione again. He hadn't seen her since the Sunday when their relationship had been announced, since she was at work, and had instead been helping Pansy move into her new apartment. He loved Pansy, sure, but he missed the intelligent conversation he held with Hermione, not to mention the snogging. The chatter he had with Pansy was always entertaining, but he missed the deep conversations he had with Hermione. He was well aware that he was in over his head with his feelings, but he couldn't change it now.

"Would you like to have her over for lunch on Sunday?" Narcissa offered. "I was thinking that we could have a few of her friends over, as well as Pansy. Perhaps the Potters?"

Draco spluttered into his tea but regained his composure quickly. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm certain, Draco," Narcissa rolled her eyes and shook her hair out. "We all owe our lives to Harry Potter, and I've not yet had a proper chance to repay him since the War. That said, I feel the Potters would be much more comfortable if Hermione were here."

"Yeah, but Pans won't exactly be happy to be here with all the happy couples," Draco frowned. "She's still bitter."

"And she has every right to be," Narcissa said. "Mention this to Hermione when you next see her, won't you?"

* * *

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Draco asked Hermione for the millionth time as they sat in her lounge room, waiting for the other guests to Narcissa's lunch to arrive. Harry and Ginny, as well as little James, would all be arriving shortly, along with Ron. Pansy had, with great reluctance, agreed to attend the gathering but was going straight to Malfoy Manor.

"Yes, now stop fussing," Hermione rolled her eyes, clipping in her earrings in front of the mirror. "Everything will be fine."

"But what about _Weasley_?" Draco sneered, the distaste towards her ex-husband clear in his voice. "He'll fuck everything up."

Hermione rolled her eyes and returned to the couch. "No, he won't," she assured him. "It'll be fine."

Draco said nothing but crossed his arms tightly across his chest, staring at the flames. Hermione ignored his sulky attitude with another roll of her eyes and leant in against him. Against his attitude, Draco relaxed and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer to him. The flames began to crackle with more exuberance, a sign that someone would shortly be arriving by Floo powder, and Hermione pressed a chaste kiss to Draco's lips. "Be good," she warned him when she pulled back and he sighed but nodded.

The fire flashed green and Ginny stepped out, holding James tightly in her arms. The redhead's face lit up at the sight of Hermione, and James instantly reached out for his godmother. Harry soon followed, greeting Hermione with a peck on the cheek and Draco with a firm handshake which left both Ginny and Hermione beaming.

"Is Ron here yet?" he asked, looking around the room before seating himself next to Ginny. Hermione and Draco resumed their seats, this time with James on Hermione's lap.

"Not yet, but he said he'd be here," Hermione said, bouncing the cooing baby on her lap. Draco looked over at the child curiously, turning away quickly when Hermione caught his eye. "What?"

"Nothing," he said speedily.

"You can hold him if you like," Ginny offered and Draco's head turned slowly back to James. "He won't bite."

Slowly and carefully, Hermione transferred James to Draco's lap, where the blonde held the child awkwardly. James didn't fuss, but looked up at Draco with wide eyes, reaching for his face. "He likes you," Hermione noted and Draco nodded absently, looking at the baby carefully.

"Smart baby," he commented and Harry chuckled. "I'm not so great with the kids. Here, Hermione."

Hermione took James back from Draco and the group lapsed back into an easy conversation for a few more minutes before Ron arrived. The atmosphere following his arrival was distinctly tenser, and Hermione was all too glad when it was time to depart to Malfoy Manor. Handing James back to Ginny, they decided that Side-Along Apparating was the best method of transportation. Hermione let down the wards of her house for the time as they went off in groups, James and Ginny, Ron and Harry, and at last Draco and Hermione.

The grounds of Malfoy Manor looked as splendid as always. In the early spring air the weather was pleasantly cool and the flowers were bursting into life. The drive towards the front doors was lined with sweet smelling flowers and white peacocks roamed at random. Hermione could hear the delicate trickle of a nearby fountain, the sound almost musical when teamed with the chirping birds. Looking up at the sky, she noted it was nearly cloudless and the perfect blue.

"Nice day," Draco noted, repeating her actions.

Narcissa greeted the group with a disgruntled Pansy at her side, and they all moved out the back doors where a huge table had been prepared. In typical Malfoy style, the food was sumptuous and everyone ate until they could scarcely move. There were bowls of various salads, a variety of meats, poultry and fish cooked in delicious ways, and plates of fine cheeses and freshly baked bread. The food and drink were all delicious, and Hermione found herself thankful that she had decided to forgo breakfast that morning. Even Ron and Harry, who normally had appetites the size of elephants, were struggling through all the food. Dessert ended up winning out, however, with individual strawberry cheesecakes swaying everyone's resolves.

The conversation, much to everyone's surprise, transpired easily. Discussion ranged from Quidditch, to ancient magic, to food, and Hermione was pleased to see her friends from both sides of the circle joining. Both she and Draco were shocked to see how amicable Ron and Pansy had turned out to be towards each other. By the end of the meal, they were joking easily between one another, a situation which made all of the guests raise their eyebrows. Their relationship at school had been less than desirable and they'd had next to no contact since school ended, so the friendly relationship which had begun to transpire was very surprising.

By three o'clock, conversation was still going strong but Hermione was wishing to stretch her legs. Whilst the others talked about Quidditch, a topic which she found extremely dull but was surprised to find Narcissa and Pansy were awfully engaged in, she excused herself and returned to the house. The tall building was cool, the tiled floors releasing much of the warmth the early afternoon sun was dealing out. She walked through the back room and into the even cooler Entrance Hall in search for a bathroom.

"Need a hand?" Draco's silky voice sounded by her ear and she jumped, whirling around to face him. "Sorry."

"Don't creep up on me like that," she frowned, and he apologized again. "Are you following me?"

"You may be surprised to know that Quidditch talk can get a bit tedious after forty-five minutes," he said dryly. "I'll lead you to a bathroom, and then we can figure out what we're doing from there."

A little confused by his words, Hermione allowed her hand to slip into his. He led her through a series of rooms and she was utterly baffled at the sheer size of the Manor. At last, after two sitting rooms, an informal dining room and a smaller, second kitchen, they reached the bathroom which Hermione visited quickly, Draco waiting outside so she would not lose her way back to the group.

When she exited the bathroom (which was incredibly lavish, she noted, with two sinks, marble floors and everlasting roses placed strategically around the room to give a lasting scent) Draco shocked her by his actions, which involved snogging her absolutely senseless on the wall opposite the bathroom door. Her arms had wound their way around his neck and her hands were tangled in his hair by the time they broke apart.

"Gods, I missed you," he admitted, this confession causing Hermione to pull his lips back to her own in a frenzy of kisses. In a display of raw strength, he lifted her off the ground and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, effectively hiking her dress up her legs in the process. Both had entirely forgotten where they were and the event they were supposed to be attending in favour of each other.

Pulling her away from the wall, Draco faltered minutely as he carried her, lips still firmly attached, from the hallway to the sitting room furthest from the gathering. They paused once more here, Hermione being pushed against another wall once again. She had never felt such raw passion from a lover, but it was something she was discovering she enjoyed.

"Where?" she breathed when Draco lifted her from the wall again. They were both certain of where this would lead, and neither seemed to care.

"Bedroom," he muttered in response, claiming her lips in another searing kiss. Their tongues once again battled for dominance until Draco finally one, his tongue once again exploring every crevice of her mouth. Knowing full well that he would be unable to wait until they were upstairs in his old bedroom to have her, he fumbled for his wand. Using the privileges of being a Malfoy in the family Manor, he apparated them both, still connected at the lips as well as various other places, to the old room.

Hermione pulled away with a gasp at the change in location, but her attentions were soon diverted elsewhere as Draco tugged her dress from her body. He set her back to the ground so she could step out of it, discarding her ballet flats in the process. Sensing that it would only be fair for them both to be in an equal state on undress, he quickly discarded his dark blue shirt and black slacks with the aid of Hermione, kicking off his shoes.

In a tangle of limbs the pair fell back onto his old bed. Draco wound his hands into her hair, caressing each curl with delicate fingers. Hermione's approach was rawer, her hands scratching softly at his back before moving to run down his exposed chest. He groaned as her hands brushed across his nipples and she grinned devilishly, retracing her steps.

"Minx," he growled, moving so he was positioned on top of her. She just grinned back at him and he removed his hands from her hair, instead using them to expertly remove her bra and fling it across the room. Her protests were cut off in her throat when he moved his hands to her exposed breasts, eliciting a moan as he touched the sensitive flesh. Lifting her head slightly, their lips met once again and Draco thought that he would never need eat again if he could only stay forever attached to Hermione's lips.

Hermione's hand trailed down and brushed against the front of his boxers and he bucked into her hand. With a smile she cupped him through the fabric and he moaned loudly into her mouth.

"I can't wait. You're sure?" he managed to get out and she answered with a kiss. Together they wriggled out of their remaining underwear and Draco pushed into her. They joined with a simultaneous, incredibly loud moan that no doubt carried from the room.

Working as one in the intimate dance, they formed a steady rhythm, each movement causing the delicious friction to spread through their bodies and light their veins on fire. They continued to move like that, each moaning and crying out with their movements. Their hands were everywhere, the feeling of such total intimacy a first for both. They had been in this situation before with others, but never with such power and completion.

Their act culminated in a final cry from both at the same moment, and Draco collapsed to the side of her, both completely spent and covered in a light sheen of sweat. His arm was still flung across her body as they lay there, gasping for breath. When they had finally recovered enough to move, Hermione rolled from the bed, ignoring Draco's heated gaze as she padded nude across the bedroom to retrieve her wand. She found her wand amongst the pile of clothes and cast the contraceptive charm on herself, her stomach glowing a soft purple for a moment afterwards.

"Come here," Draco murmured having pushed himself into a sitting position on the bed, still entirely nude. She complied, joining him in an instant.

"We should rejoin the party." They manoeuvred their way beneath the top sheet of the bed and she sighed contently as she leant her head against his chest.

"I imagine it's already broken up," he pressed a kiss to her hair. "I doubt they have any questions about our whereabouts anyway. They've probably figured it out by now."

"How?" Hermione frowned, tilting her head up.

"We weren't exactly discreet," his tone was dry and she rolled her eyes. "I didn't know you were a screamer."

Hermione pulled away from him, deftly rolling from the bed before he could register her movements. With irrationally angry steps, she yanked her clothing back on. "I'm glad you're entertained by the state I'm in during sex," she snapped, zipping her dress back on.

"Hermione!" Draco groaned, following in her footsteps. He pulled on his pants but remained bare-chested as he hurried after her. "What's the matter?"

She continued to walk away but he caught up quickly, grabbing her spinning her against his chest. "Let me go," she said quietly.

"What is wrong?" he demanded.

"We just had sex, and all you can say afterwards is that you didn't think I'd scream," she snapped. "_That_ is what's wrong, Draco."

His eyes widened incredulously. "_That_?" he asked and she nodded once. "Christ, Granger, what did you want me to say? How connected and fulfilled I felt? How, when we kiss, the stars collide? Fuck, you know I don't do that sentimental bullshit."

Sensing how utterly irrational she was being, Hermione relaxed in his arms. "Maybe so, but did you have to be so vulgar about it?"

"Pardon me, Your Majesty," he commented sardonically, releasing her. "I'll refrain from speaking my mind in future." He turned away, returning to his old room with Hermione tailing behind a little bit hesitantly. "I don't bite. Not to hurt, anyway."

She flushed at his meaning but maintained eye contact with him as he found his shirt and buttoned it back up, leaving it untucked, crumpled, and with the top three buttons undone. When he was finished she approached, standing on tiptoe to press a warm kiss to his lips. "Thanks."

"Worth the wait?" he asked, pulling their bodies together again.

"Definitely," came the reply before he kissed her again, this time the exchange far more passionate. When his hands moved to unzip her dress again, however, she pulled away. "I have work in the morning," she reminded him, "and I think I'd like to walk straight."

"Call in sick," he suggested, trying to remove the garment again but she stepped fully from his grasp.

"I don't think so," she shook her head. "Sorry."

"Fine," he sighed, pouting like a petulant child. "I'll walk you to the Floo."

Walking down to the largest fireplace in the house, they encountered Narcissa who gave them a knowing smile before returning to her tea and conversation with Pansy. Draco and Hermione were informed that the others had left an hour earlier, following James disturbance by a rather loud ruckus somewhere on the grounds. Hermione flushed a brilliant shade of red at this statement and Draco shot his mother and best friend a glare as he ushered his witch from the room.

"This is absolutely mortifying," she moaned when they reached the main parlour. "Gods, your mother knows we had sex. _Ron_ knows we had sex!"

Draco could hardly keep himself from laughing, but the sight of his witch's total distress kept the humour at bay. "It's alright, Granger," he said, pulling her against him. "We're all adults here."

"I suppose," she said, her brow still creased. "But still!"

After a few more minutes of reassurance that nobody would care that they'd gone off in the middle of the lunch, Draco gave Hermione a farewell kiss (and had tried to turn it into something more, despite her insistence that she absolutely had to work the next morning), already anxious for their next meeting.

**

* * *

A/N: Two updates in one day. You guys are so lucky I have no social life.**


	25. Chapter 25

"Ron's going on a date," Ginny announced as she handed Hermione a glass of wine. They had kicked Harry out of Grimmauld place with James, declaring that they would have some 'Girl Time' over wine and some lunch, which was exactly what they were doing, sitting in the blazing sunshine of the back porch. "You'll never guess who it's with, though."

Hermione raised her eyebrows as she sipped at the dry white wine, turning over possible names in her head. Lavender Brown was the first name that popped up, but she dismissed it at once. Susan Bones, Tracey Davis, Luna, Hannah Abbot. Each name seemed less likely than the one before it. After a few moments of silence had elapsed in which no potential dates for her ex-husband popped into her mind, she frowned. "Who?"

"Pansy Parkinson," the redhead smirked, her smile widening when Hermione's jaw dropped. Ginny nodded smugly. "They got along so well at Narcissa's lunch, and by the end of it they were acting as though they were old friends. Not that you were there for the end of it."

Hermione's cheeks coloured quickly and she looked away from her friend who was chuckling. She had managed to avoid the topic of her not-so subtle exit for the entire week, but now that Saturday had rolled around and she had no excuse to avoid her friends, she was cornered. She had ignored the owls which had been sent her way by Ginny and Harry, as well as a particularly snide owl from Pansy asking how Draco was in bed. Hermione had promptly blushed and burnt the last. "Shut it, Gin."

"You never told me how it was," Ginny reminded her, not wavering under the scathing glare Hermione dealt out. "I mean, I've seen him topless, and he's absolutely gorgeous, but does the Hogwarts gossip do his performance justice."

Though she had pretended to be the innocent little Gryffindor at Hogwarts, it had been hard to avoid the rumours of Draco's sexuality. They floated around each corner when he strutted by, groups of girls giggling whenever he passed. There had been plenty of rumours about his size, his sexual prowess, and his stamina. Hermione could clearly recall one story where he had five different girls in the one night, each one twice. Each rumour seemed to boost his confident, his swagger growing more and more pronounced as the school years passed.

"I never kiss and tell," Hermione said, eager to change the topic. She was always embarrassed to talk about her sexual exploits aloud, even if it was with her best girlfriend. All Ginny needed to know in Hermione's mind was that she had gotten intimate with Draco.

"But you did more than kiss," Ginny countered. "C'mon, Hermione. You guys were gone for _ages_, and your noise kind of carried."

Absolutely mortified, Hermione covered her face with her hands. "Thanks for the reminder, Gin," she groaned. "Yes, I shagged Draco, and it was incredible. That enough for you?"

"As if," Ginny rolled her brown eyes in an exaggerated gesture. "I want details."

"You want a blow by blow account of how I shagged Draco Malfoy?" Hermione's eyebrows shot up in incredulity when Ginny nodded, her face entirely truthful. Hermione had heard Lavender and Pavarti whispering in their dorms late at night about how they had snuck around with various boys, but Hermione was not one to repeat such incidences. "Gin, we're not fifteen. You're married and you have a son. I'm sure you know all about the mechanics of sex."

"True," Ginny acknowledged, "but you two were really going at it. How big is he?"

"Oh, shit, I forgot to pull my ruler out in the middle of sex and measure him," Hermione slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand. "Sorry."

"Oh, ha-ha," Ginny glowered. "Fine. No more talk about you and Draco doing the hanky-panky. But just so you know, if I was having hot sex with somebody, I would tell you everything about it. Whether you liked it or not. Where do you think Ron's taking Pansy?"

The remainder of the conversation turned to speculation over the possible blooming relationship between Ron and Pansy. Hermione insisted that nothing would come of it, and that it may just be a quick shag for both of them at best, but Ginny held more faith in her brother, saying that she had really seen something between Pansy and Ron.

"You must have incredibly good vision," Hermione sighed, standing up and placing her now empty glass on the table. "I should go. I'm meant to be going to see Narcissa for dinner, and Draco wants to see me beforehand."

"Stay safe," Ginny warned with a playful smile and a warm hug before Hermione stepped inside and into the fireplace, reappearing in a cloud of green smoke in her own lounge room. She noticed Draco was already there, lounging on her couch with a cup of tea.

"Come in," he said charmingly, standing up to greet her with a soft kiss on the lips that could have turned into so much more had she not pulled away. She rolled her eyes and stepped further into her lounge room, Draco thrusting a cup of tea into her hands. "How're you?"

"Peachy, why are you appearing in my lounge with cups of tea when I'm not home?" she curled into his side on the sofa, their usual position with his arm draped around her. She found it incredibly relaxing just to sit here with him, even if they were not talking. She would lean her head against his chest, her feet tucked to the side, and occasionally he would press kisses to her hair or she would tilt her head up to brush her lips along is jaw, an action which never failed to make him shiver.

"I told you I'd be here at half past three, and it's now four," Draco pointed out and she could hear the impatience in his voice. "Besides, you haven't changed your wards to keep me out when you're not here. I like it this way. I might surprise you one day with the image of me lying on your bed, entirely nude and covered in whipped cream."

"Yum," she licked her lips unconsciously at the image and he laughed, kissing her hair. She always found the gesture beautifully intimate. "Why did you want to see me before dinner with your mother?"

"I wouldn't mind a quick fuck," he said and she slapped his chest indignantly, "but my real reason is to warn you. Mum's fairly keen to have grandkids. Since my father died, she's been a little...eager. And seeing Potter's kid on Sunday kind of sealed the deal for her. I almost thought she'd steal the baby."

"Draco, I can't," Hermione said, stiffening noticeably in his arms. She hadn't given much thought to having kids, other than the thought after the miscarriages which consumed her, and that had been telling her that she would never have a child. She could hardly stand the thought that she might try and get pregnant again, only for it to fail. "It won't happen. I'm sorry."

"I know, and that's okay. I don't mind," he said quietly, rubbing his hand up and down her arm to soothe her. "We've only been together for a little while. She's just being her usual melodramatic self. She'll probably still pester you, though, so I'm going to go to dinner with you. My mother can get quite..._aggressive_."

The momentary shock having passed, Hermione relaxed slightly but pulled away from him. "Draco, I'll be fine," she insisted but he shook his head. "We're just talking business."

"I'm coming," he said, his tone clear that his words were the final that would be spoken on the topic. "She's expecting me to be there anyway."

"I don't need babysitting, Draco," Hermione said sharply, pulling away from him entirely and getting to her feet. She crossed her arms angrily against her chest. "I'm a big girl. I'll be fine without you there. I don't want you to come."

"Granger, just calm down," Draco sighed wearily but Hermione just glared at him. "I'm not trying to baby you. I just want to go with you to dinner with my mother."

"And I said that I don't want you there. Narcissa and I planned it strictly so we can talk business," she snapped. "You'll distract me, and I don't need it."

"You are so fucking painful," he said scathingly, rolling his arctic eyes towards the ceiling. She huffed.

"And you're a pigheaded asshole," came her retort half a second later.

They both stood in complete silence, staring at each other, daring the other to make the next move. When neither spoke, Draco let out an irritated snort and stalked over to the fireplace, returning home in a flash of green. Hermione remained in her place, staring at the spot where he had been standing for a moment longer before angrily turning from the room and heading to her bedroom. She pulled out her clothes for the evening and stripped down, showering quickly in steaming hot water before pulling on the new clothes. She had hoped vainly that the hot shower would calm her down and make her think rationally about things, but upon exiting into the steamy bathroom, all she felt was irrational irritation.

Six thirty came and Hermione apparated to Malfoy Manor, Narcissa greeting her at the front door.

"What's my son done now?" the older witch asked, noting Hermione's emotions.

"Nothing," Hermione grumbled, following Narcissa to one of the informal dining rooms.

"Look, Hermione, I can't read your mind, but I know that Draco did or said something to make you act like this. I don't know what it was, and you don't have to tell me, but I need you to know that Draco cares for you more than he's ever cared for anyone," Narcissa said, her voice entirely sincere. "He doesn't want to hurt you. He doesn't want to lose you. He's close to loving you, even if he doesn't say or express it."

"I'm not so sure," Hermione disagreed. "Should we talk about business?"

Over the next few hours, in between a glass of wine and a delicious plate of roast pork and roasted vegetables, Narcissa and Hermione planned. By eleven o'clock they were both mentally exhausted having finished drafting various appeals, discussing possible donators, planning advertising and sorting out potential events that the charity could hold. Narcissa had already been working on some sketches for a new logo and had been privately planning the public launch of the charity in the form of a ball. Hermione nodded along with all of Narcissa's plans, glad that at least one of them had been organizing.

"I think if we hosted the ball in early summer before the weather got too warm we would get more guests," Narcissa suggested. "We could hold it outside on the grounds."

"That sounds good," Hermione agreed, her mind elsewhere. She kept rethinking what Narcissa had said about Draco when she had first arrived, and then her mind would drift to the row they had shared earlier. By midnight, Hermione was entirely absorbed in her thoughts of Draco. "Narcissa, I'm sorry, my mind is elsewhere tonight. Your plans are all wonderful, though. I think I should probably head home and get some rest."

"Of course," Narcissa said graciously, standing up to walk Hermione to the front doors. "I completely lost track of time. I'll send you an owl with further details and information."

After a brief hug and a thankful smile for Narcissa's kind hospitality, Hermione apparated back to her house, landing with a slight stumble in the lounge room. The house was silent as she kicked off her heels in the lounge before padding softly to the bathroom. She washed her makeup off quickly, stripped out of her black dress and headed to the bedroom.

What greeted her was a shock.

Draco had obviously let himself into her house again, and had fallen asleep on the bed waiting for her return. He was sprawled across the dark blue bedcovers, fully clothed, with a can of whipped cream beside him. In sleep, he looked perfect. The creases smoothed and his smirk faded. His hair, soft and silky beneath her fingers, was hanging into his face in a mess. She couldn't help but smile when she looked at him, and the anger she had felt earlier in the evening evaporated at the sight. Her heart felt lighter just looking at him, and she chose to join him on the bed after slipping into her oversized nightshirt and flicking off the lights.

With slow movements she pulled off his shoes, keen not to disturb him, tossing them gently into a pile at the foot of the bed. She moved back up to his head, kissing his lips gently.

"I think I'm falling in love with you," she whispered against them, pulling back when he replied.

"I'm think I'm already there."

In the moonlight which drifted in through the part in the curtains, Hermione hovered over Draco, her knees on either side of his body. His silky hair was fanned out around his head on the pillow he lay on and she trailed her fingers through it mindlessly. He let out a contented sigh at the sensation and she smiled, continuing her actions. His hands move from his sides to cup her face gently, moving her head down and capturing her lips in a soft, sweet kiss. This kiss spoke hundreds of words. It was full of emotion and unspoken apologies, and as they kissed, Hermione realized how perfect everything was becoming.

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A/N: Tiny chapter, but I have to focus on school at the moment. Please, please, please review! This story is very nearly at its end. I'm quite sad.**


	26. Chapter 26

Hermione awoke in a state of delicious nakedness and she wriggled her toes beneath the blankets before curling in on her side to observe Draco who was still lost in his slumber. He lay on his side, face turned towards her, his mouth partially open. She felt the urge to lean forward and kiss his pink lips, but the desire to watch him sleep for just a few moments longer was stronger. She contented herself with memorizing every aspect of his face, from the way his eyelashes nearly kissed his cheeks when his eyes were closed to the way his hair, the perfect shade of blonde, hung just over his brow.

The sheet which covered them hung low on his hips and her eyes travelled down the elegant curve of his neck until her eyes settled on the red mark on his collarbone. Her lips curved upwards at the memory of her giving him that particular mark the night before, and she reminded herself to kiss it when he woke. From the mark, her eyes moved to his impressively broad shoulders, and then to his torso which made her mouth water.

His physique was impressive to say the least. Each muscle was well-defined, and yet not overly so. The skin was a mere shade paler than that on his lower arms and face, and the body had been trimmed of all unnecessary fat. Though he was muscular, incredibly so, he was still soft to lie with, a quality which she felt was painfully necessary. The muscle came in handy, of course, and she loved feeling the firm planes of his chest beneath her hands as she clutched to him desperately.

At long last her eyes reached the soft patch of blonde fuzz which trailed downwards from his bellybutton. The hair was slightly darker than that on his head and a little bit more golden. She knew what she would find if she followed its path, for that's exactly what she had done the night before. She most certainly loved that discovery, and she was certain that Draco was aware of her love for it.

He began to stir, giving a final deep breath before his eyelids began to flutter. Taking this as her cue, she repositioned herself so she was straddling him, rolling his body onto his back in the process. The movement woke him entirely and he looked up at her through bleary grey eyes, his mouth contorting into his familiar smirk as he realized their position.

"Hey," she said quietly, pressing her lips against the mark on his collar bone. She bit down incredibly softly, knowing it would still be tender from the night before, and sucked on the spot until he moaned. She moved her lips upward until they met his, his tongue immediately tracing against her lip for entrance. She complied and he won their brief battle, and it was only when Draco's hands found her bare waist that she realized the sheet was gone from her body.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he murmured, breaking the kiss and moving her so she was sitting straight. She blushed under his heady gaze, his fingertips, which were now grazing up and down her sides, sending shivers up her spine. "Fucking perfect."

His hands found her breasts and she moaned once. Draco took this as a very obvious sign to keep going, but instead of remaining in their position, he carefully adjusted them so he was on top. She barely registered the soft thump of the sheet as it fell to the floor, exposing both of them in their entire nakedness to the sunlight. In any other case, with any other man, she would have been embarrassed, but Draco's lips were trailing down her neck and to the hollow at the base of her throat, distracting her entirely. She threaded her hands through the silky strands of hair, almost guiding his head as his lips left a burning trail down her body. His lips trailed down to her bellybutton, circling it slowly before he dipped his tongue in gently. Warmth pooled in her stomach and she pulled his head back up to meet her own, smashing their lips together fiercely.

He groaned as she ground their bodies together and, unable to wait even another moment longer, he pushed into her. They both cried out with utter bliss, her fingernails raking at the tender skin on his back and his body quaking with primal need. Their moans reverberated throughout the room each time either one moved, their actions speaking louder than their words ever could. They finished together, crying out each other's names in their moment of total ecstasy, and Draco collapsed to the side.

"I fucking love you," he managed to pant out and her smile at that moment was brighter than the sun.

"I think I love you, too," she breathed, rolling over to kiss him. He moved away after a moment and propped himself up on his elbow, turning on his side to face you. "What?"

"I don't want you to say it just because I said it," he said solemnly, his eyes dark and serious as he spoke.

She mirrored her position, though her eyes were much lighter than his. "Since when did I do things just because you do them?" she asked wryly and all at once his eyes brightened. "I love you."

He leaned over and captured her lips in a kiss that she would remember for the rest of her life. She allowed him to move over her once more, tangling his hands in her hair as though he never wished to let go. He kissed her lips as though they were water to an unquenchable thirst, pulling her against him with an unbreakable grasp. The fireworks which exploded behind her eyes at his touch seemed to burn into her eyelids, and she knew for the first time what love – true love – really was.

* * *

When Hermione managed to drag herself from the bed a few hours later (with great reluctance and many protests from Draco), she caught a glance of herself in the bathroom mirror. Her hair was in total disarray, her makeup from the night prior was smeared, and her lips were swollen and red. When her eyes strayed down to the rest of her body, she noticed that it was dotted with lovebites, Draco showing his claim on her to the whole world. Her fingertips softly brushed along a mark on her hip and a smile found a home on her lips.

She took a long, steamy shower, washing herself carefully and massaging shampoo into her hair for the longest time until at last all the sweat and smell of sex had finally swirled down the drain. She remerged into the bedroom wrapped in a tiny white towel and Draco groaned at the sight of her wet hair dripping rivulets of water down her upper chest. He was still sprawled on the bed but his eyes followed a particular drop which slid between the valley of her breasts, then hidden by the towel.

"Salazar's soul," he murmured, standing from the bed and embracing her, still stark naked. She wormed out of his grip.

"As much as I'd love to, you stink," she wrinkled her nose and he scowled. "Besides, we can't just laze around in bed all day. That'd get boring."

"As if," he scoffed. "I can think of plenty different things we can do to occupy or time. Positions, at least."

"The shower's in there," she laughed as he pouted, dropping the towel only when she heard the door close and the water start. She dressed simply, a pair of jeans and a cardigan over a plain shirt, and tidied her room whilst Draco showered. A quick _scourgify_ to the sheets left them fresh and smelling of soap, cleaning Draco's clothes with the same charm, and she made the bed with another flick of her wand. Just as she finished by opening the curtains and window, the bathroom door opened and Draco exited in a flurry of steam.

The sight of him was enough to make her mouth water.

His towel hung low on his hips and she once again found herself floored by how immaculately muscular his torso was. The droplets of water clung to his pristine pale skin, the whiteness only marred by the curled black ink of the Dark Mark on his left forearm. She was not as revolted by the sight of the tattoo as she knew she should be. All it meant to her was that he had overcome something so utterly ghastly, and was still the man she loved.

"I cleaned your clothes," she pointed to the neatly folded stack of attire on the bed and she couldn't help but avert her eyes when he dropped his towel. He laughed at her reaction and she knew she was being childish. She had seen everything that the towel had hidden, but that was under different circumstances.

"You can look now," he said and she could hear the smile in his voice. "I'm decent."

She blushed at the taunting in his voice and snatched up the towel, hanging it up in the bathroom as an excuse not to reply. "I was thinking of seeing Ron today and asking how his date with Pansy went," she called from the steam-filled bathroom. The mirror was fogged up and she wiped a patch clear so she could tie her hair to the back of her head in a ponytail. "Want to come?"

"Must I?" Draco's response came as a groan and she rolled her eyes at him when she returned to the room.

"I never said you had to," she pointed out. "But you're welcome to join me. Unless you have other plans?"

He snorted. "I'm unemployed, have no real need nor desire to get a job, and my days are spent either shagging you or doing absolutely nothing. What plans would I have?"

"Fair point," she stated. "Would you like to come? Because if so, I'd like to go now. It's past midday, and I wouldn't mind going out to lunch afterwards."

"Lunch?" his ears perked up at the sound of food and she couldn't help but laugh. Men. "I suppose I should go anyway, just to protect you."

"And for food," she added and he grinned. "C'mon, we'll apparate."

After putting some food in Altheda's bowl (the cat looked awfully disgruntled at apparently having a rather disturbed night's sleep, and she had been unable to laze on Hermione's bed as she was used to), Hermione gripped Draco's hand and they apparated to Ron's home. The little house sat in the countryside, free of neighbours for at least half a kilometre in each direction, though it was close to The Burrow which had been a stipulation of Ron's.

Walking up the path, Hermione smiled and the smell of wildflowers which drifted over. She knocked on the door, an impatient Draco at her side, but had to wait for a few minutes before Ron finally answered.

"'Mione?" he asked, looking distinctly rumpled and clad only in a t-shirt and boxes. "What's the matter?"

"I just came to see how your date with Pansy went," Hermione said, trying not to laugh at his attire and ruffled hair which was sticking out in all directions.

"Yeah, it was good," he said absently. "Look, I don't mean to be rude, but I'm in the middle of-,"

"Ron! Unless Merlin himself is at the door, hurry the fuck up and get back here."

Hermione's brown eyes widened at the recognition of the voice and Draco was already doubled over, howling with laughter. Footsteps approached behind Ron and Pansy emerged, wrapped in one of Ron's dressing gowns. The scene looked familiar to Hermione, only the man who was currently clutching his sides with mirth was in the embarrassed redhead's place.

"Granger? Draco?" Pansy shrieked, clutching her robe closed. "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing, we were just, um, going," Hermione leaned forward and wrenched the door closed, her face bright red. Draco just continued to laugh as she dragged him down the path.

"That...was...bloody...brilliant," he gasped out. "Your face, Granger! You should have seen it!"

"Shut it," she snapped, too embarrassed for a wittier retort at that point. Clutching his arm, she span on the spot and they reappeared in a muggle alleyway. "Now, do you want food or do you want me to castrate you, because your laughing will lead to the latter."

He sobered up immediately but his face was still tinged with pink from his fit of laughter. "Food please, ma'am," he mock saluted her and she rolled her eyes at his antics, turning away from him and marching from the alleyway. He ran for a moment to catch up with her, grasping her hand and bringing it to his lips quickly. "Sorry."

Her face softened at his actions. "You're forgiven, but only because I'm starving." Her stomach rumbled then as if to prove her point and they both chuckled.

Hermione lead the way as they wound through the muggle streets until they found a cafe which she favoured, mainly for their delicious steak sandwiches. They ate in silence, both too ravenous to speak during the meal. The hour was close to three in the afternoon when they emerged from the cafe but Hermione felt exhausted already, still worn out from their morning's activities. She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand.

"Tired?" Draco asked, his eyes dancing mischievously. He was perfectly aware of why she was so lethargic at such an odd hour.

"Exhausted," came her response. "I think I'd like a nap."

He agreed with the proposition and followed her home by means of apparition. They both kicked off their shoes and curled up on the bed together, Draco holding her tight against his body. She felt so _right_ in that position, his lips occasionally pressing against her hair in an absent kiss. After barely five minutes she fell asleep only to be awoken what seemed like seconds later by Draco shaking her gently.

"Why'd you wake me?" she grumbled, rolling onto her back and squinting up at him through bleary eyes.

"It's almost seven and there's an owl at the window," he gestured to the pane of glass which was indeed blocking the path of an elegant looking bird with an envelope clasped in its beak. Draco let the owl in after Hermione granted him permission and it dropped the envelope on her chest and fluttered out almost immediately. "It looks like one of Mum's owls."

She tore open the envelope and a pretty piece of golden paper fell out, the text written in Narcissa's elegant script:

_Miss Hermione Granger and Lady Malfoy cordially invite you to_

_The Annual S.P.E.W Gala Ball,_

_To be held on the grounds of Malfoy Manor,_

_May 30__th_

_7 P.M._

Hermione's eyes flashed with excitement at the invitation and she pulled another letter out from the envelope:

_Hermione,_

_I'm sorry I didn't wait to consult you further on this matter, but I've been planning all day and could not help but immediately start invitations. I do hope you are available on this date, and please let my Draco know about the event. I hope he will come along as your date for the evening._

_Yours,_

_Narcissa_

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A/N: This is the second last chapter, and I really like it. I've been taking the advice and ideas of some of my reviewers, so I'd like to thank you guys for your tips. After the next chapter there will be a short epilogue, and then that'll be it for this story! Expect the next chapter some time in the next few days. It should be nice and long, perfect to wrap everything up in.**

**Please, please, please review!**


	27. Chapter 27

Days slipped into weeks and weeks into months, and the Gala Ball crept up on all who were invited. Each person who was invited had spent the day getting ready, ensuring they looked their best, for the press were allowed to swarm as much as they liked during the arrivals, after which it would be an invitation only event.

Hermione had spent her morning scribbling down the last few notes of her speech until two o'clock when she had begun to get ready. She would be the last guest arriving of the night with Narcissa promising to make her arrival the most spectacular. Draco would meet her at her house and the two would once again take a magical car to the event, Narcissa too worried that Hermione's appearance would be too ruffled should they apparate.

After soaking in a tub of jasmine scented bathwater for two hours (in which she meticulously ran over the lines of her speech as she lathered and cleansed), Hermione wrapped herself in a silky robe with simple lingerie beneath, knowing she would change into something nicer later on. She had only allocated such a large portion of time to ready herself was because she had planned to do everything the muggle way, certain that her hair and makeup would last longer that way. Of course, a few charms would always be added to ensure absolutely nothing fell out of place.

She sat in front of her vanity table, pots and containers of makeup, hairstyling products (both wizarding and magical), and various other beauty products littering the surface. After drying her hair, she began by placing it in large rollers, determined to end up with large, bouncy curls that fell past her shoulders. She continued her preparation with her makeup, applying only a small amount until she reached her eyes. Delicately dabbing on some eye shadow, she smoothed the shimmery powder out evenly and lined her top lid with a black liner. She slathered on mascara until her lashes were thickly coated. The entire effect was stunning, if she did say so herself, the final touch being revealed when she let her hair out from the rollers. It landed in elegant waves and large curls, placing itself perfectly. She did not look at all like her usual self.

Stepping away from the vanity, Hermione dropped the robe and stripped from her knickers, exchanging the simple garment for something she was certain Draco would adore. The choice of dress had been made by Narcissa, though Hermione had to admit it was absolutely exquisite, but the elder witch had said nothing about her undergarments. Smirking to herself, she stepped into the lacy pieces before turning her attention to the stunning dress which lay on the bed.

It had been another one of Narcissa's creations but she had not allowed Hermione to see it until that morning when she had sent it over. The silk-satin dress clung to every single one of Hermione's curves, and the torso and bust was decorated with beautiful little studs which shimmered with each movement she made. The almost pink shade of the dress complimented her skin colour quite prettily and she wondered how Narcissa knew that she would absolutely adore it.

The gown felt like heaven against her skin when she slipped into it and she let out a little sigh of contentment. With some small, unnoticeable adjustments, the lacy treat she wore below was entirely hidden. Reaching for her jewellery, Hermione clipped her earrings in. The fine jewellery was shaped like a panther's head though its surface was littered with diamonds and the eyes glowed emerald. The ring she wore on her hand was shaped like wings, their surface also dotted with priceless diamonds. She slipped into her shoes, which were high and silver, peeking out from the high slit in her dress whenever she took a step, and picked up her clutch just as Draco knocked on the front door.

Hermione turned to the mirror for one last appearance check. The person who stared back was like no one Hermione had ever encountered. With the sultry waves of her hair, dark brows and pouty lips, the woman staring back at her was someone more beautiful and sexy than Hermione could imagine. The dress was tight, clinging to her perfectly, and her eyes were darkly alluring.

The knock at the door sounded again and Hermione started, turning away from the beautiful image in the mirror and hurrying to the front door as fast as she could without running or falling. She threw open the door, smiling brilliantly at Draco who was dressed to the nines, his hair swept carelessly out of his brilliant eyes and his black suit contrasting beautifully with his pale skin. Draco's mouth dropped open at the image of her and she watched him swallow thickly with satisfaction.

"_Holy fuck_," he muttered, still staring at her with wide eyes.

"Do you like it?" she asked, feigning shyness. He nodded slowly and she beamed brightly at him. "We should get a move on. Your mother might explode if I'm later than I'm supposed to be for my arrival."

"Right. Yes. Well. Let's go," he offered her his hand and she allowed hers to slip into his, Draco's thumb rubbing in soft circles against the back of her hand as he was prone to do. He helped her into the limousine which awaited the couple outside of her house. During the car ride, Draco had slipped his hand into the slit of her dress, hoping to inch it up further before Hermione caught him. She glared at him, shaking her head sternly.

"I wish, but I can't. I need to look at least mildly respectable tonight, and turning up freshly shagged probably isn't the best start," she reminded him, dodging his kiss as well. "I'll kiss you after my arrival has gone off without a hitch."

Disgruntled, Draco leaned back into his seat with his arms crossed like a petulant child.

"I may not be able to kiss you yet, but trust me, later tonight we're going to do _a lot_ more than kiss," she told him, grasping their hands together tightly. Draco's eyes lit up at the words and his head whipped around to face her. She gave him a sultry glance and his eyes swirled with lust. "Just hold out for a couple more hours."

He nodded once and his eyes flickered to the scene outside the window. "We're almost there," he said. "Just...don't scream."

"What?" she asked, her brow creased into a frown as the car began to slow, only to rumble ominously. "What's going on?" her voice was panicky now and she gripped Draco's hand tightly.

"Calm down," he said soothingly. "It's just my mother's way of a dramatic entrance.

His words calmed her slightly but she did not release Draco's hand. Just when the rumbling had reached a volume so loud that her ears were beginning to ache, the noise transformed to a soft birdsong and Hermione realized that hundreds of doves were flying around her as the car changed into a stunning carriage, drawn by two pure white horses. The doves fluttered off, much to the entertainment and awe of the crowd who stood outside Malfoy Manor to greet her. The magic had been truly beautiful, Hermione thought as Draco helped her from the carriage. Upon closer inspection she realized that it was a dome made of glass, the door lined with a gold trim that she did not doubt was real.

Bulbs flashed as the press eagerly snapped as many pictures of the couple as possible. Draco's arm wrapped possessively around her waist, pulling her into his side as they stood and waited for the wave of photographers to pass. When he pressed his lips softly against her cheek the flashes went crazy, and Hermione thought that she would be blinded. She could only imagine the reaction they would get if they truly kissed.

At long last a trumpet sounded, signalling the beginning of the evening and the end of the cameras. Hermione smiled softly, leaning further into Draco as they led the procession of guests along the path and further into the grounds of Malfoy Manor. The house itself was lit up beautifully, lights circling edges of the roof and illuminating the ivy which crept up the sides. The weather was warm but not overly so and the sky was cloudless. The stars twinkled above, the final touch to the glorious setup of the grounds.

Narcissa had truly outdone herself. Hermione normally found outdoor parties lacking the class they often boasted, but the grounds of Malfoy Manor were flawless. A huge tent had been erected in the distance where everyone would no doubt be sitting for the meal, but the area which fronted it glittered with hovering candles and rosebushes sprinkled with real fairies. The usual peacocks roamed the gardens at random and a fountain lay further on, trickling a soft tune. Trays floated about at random with champagne floats drifting atop of them, and the guests soon began to mingle.

Within the first two minutes, Hermione was greeted by eight different people, none of whom she had ever laid eyes on in her life. She was aware that the majority of the guest list was filled with names of Narcissa's acquaintances, but Hermione had expected to at least know somebody. Draco was her lifesaver, remaining at her side throughout the first hour in which she just answered the same tedious questions over and over.

After a rather short and round wizard had finally departed in search of more champagne, Hermione caught sight of a flash of red hair and she turned around to see Ginny and Harry waiting to catch her attention.

"Thought you could use a familiar face," Harry smiled, embracing her quickly before shaking Draco's hand once. Hermione and Ginny began gushing over each other's dresses, Hermione making particular note of how stunning her best girlfriend looked in black. Ginny's dress held a plunging neckline and a floor length skirt, and she could see Harry itching to get his hands back onto his wife.

Harry himself looked awfully debonair, his outfit less casual than Draco's but still formal. He wore is white collared shirt with the top buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up slightly, his hair forever messy. "You look great," he complimented Hermione, pulling Ginny back and keeping his arm tight around her waist.

"Back off, Potter," Draco said, his tone light but his eyes deadly serious. He tightened his grip on Hermione and she rolled her eyes at how possessive he was being tonight.

After a small amount of small talk was exchanged between the couples, Harry and Ginny excused themselves to go and dance. Hermione just wanted to sit down and rest for awhile, already worn out by the night's festivities, but she knew Narcissa was counting on her to gain donators. Another half hour passed before the bell for dinner finally sounded and she was all but dependent on Draco to lead her to the tent which was decorated lavishly, the roof charmed to look out and onto the night's sky.

Hermione and Narcissa took the centre two seats at the long table at the head of the room, Draco on Hermione's left and the other important guests scattered on either side. The first course, fresh oysters, was served as soon as the last person was seated. Narcissa had hired an army of chefs to cook for the evening, refusing to allow any elves to partake in the preparation. Hermione ate slowly, pleased to not have to talk to anyone. Narcissa, noticing her lethargy, produced a vial of Pepper-Up potion. Hermione drank the smoking liquid in one gulp, immediately feeling the effects. Her drowsiness had instead been replaced by an overwhelming nervousness at the approach of her speech which she would be presenting at the conclusion of dessert's chocolate soufflé.

Right on cue, as the last plate was scraped clean of the wicked treat, Narcissa tapped her glass delicately with her knife, nudging Hermione into action. The latter fumbled in her purse for a few moments until she at last withdrew the piece of worn paper, though she had read the script hundreds of times prior.

"Since wizards have come to claim magical superiority over all manner of creatures, ignoring their magical capacities and capabilities. We have convinced ourselves that _we_ are superior, enslaving and kicking dirt on those who we deem to be beneath us. The most obvious mistreatment is that of house elves who have been enslaved for centuries, but they are not the only ones. Centaurs and merpeople have long been abused by wizards, and other creatures exploited for their goods. The time has come to give rights to those who we have mistreated for so long.

"I am not demanding a change in traditions. I am not asking us to drastically alter our livelihood. But I _am_ asking us to open our eyes and our hearts to those who we have created to be less fortunate. We continue to restrict the land of centaurs though we have plenty of land to give. It is simply for our greed. We are disrespectful of the culture of the merpeople. This is purely because we are too ignorant and apathetic to make an effort. We maintain our enslavement of house elves. Why? Why is it we do to house elves, intelligent, kind creatures, what we would never do to a human? Is it a general laziness on behalf of wizards? Or do we think ourselves to be above the tasks of house elves?

"We need to take action and extend the rights that others deserve to them. We need to give the land back to the centaurs. We need to make the effort to communicate with the merpeople. We need to offer wages and holidays to the house elves who have served wizards for so long.

"So tonight, I urge you to reach into hearts and give to a cause determined to help those less fortunate, a consequence of our own hand. While you dance and drink and eat tonight, think about the beings who are currently suffering because of us, and then ask yourself if you can spare a few galleons to help them.

"Thank you," she ended to tumultuous applause, sitting down with a relieved sigh. Narcissa patted her lightly on the back with a congratulatory smile. "How did I go?" Hermione asked Draco quietly.

"Bloody brilliantly," he grinned, stealing a quick kiss from her. She pulled away, blushing, but accepted his hand when he stood from the table. They were expected to mingle with the guests once again, and the tent dissolved as music began to play from some unseen source.

Allowing Draco to lead her to several important guests, she tittered about with idle talk for another half hour, Draco remaining by her side. Marguerite Zabini offered to make a generous contribution to the charity, and Seamus Finnegan's grandfather, Marcus Finnegan, followed suit. Eventually, after another forty-five minutes of nodding politely and um-ing and ah-ing at all the right moments, Draco was able to sweep her away from the guests and onto the expanse of floor cleared for dancers. There were only a few other couples, though they were quickly being outshone by a man in a black tuxedo and his partner who wore a brilliant emerald green dress.

"Draco!" the woman, who Hermione quickly realized was Pansy, cried, twirling out of Ron's embrace and into Draco's arms. Draco deftly let go of Hermione's hand in order to catch his best friend, and Ron took that moment to hold Hermione to him quickly. "You clean up well, Granger," Pansy smiled when she removed herself from the blonde's arms, and Hermione felt her cheeks flush at the compliment.

"We've known for a long time that you always look amazing, Pansy," Hermione reciprocated the compliment, allowing Draco to snake his arm around her waist. "Enjoying yourselves?"

"Bloody brilliant, 'Mione," Ron grinned, draping his arm lazily around Pansy's shoulders. Hermione couldn't help but notice that they were so perfectly suited to each other; Ron, tall and lanky with his messy hair and lazy grin, and Pansy, short and slender and put together with so much care and devotion. Somehow, despite their differences, tall and short, Gryffindor and Slytherin, they clicked.

"I'm glad," she said, smiling warmly at the pair. "We'll let you get back to your dancing, then. You two are the stars of the floor."

Hugging Ron once more, Hermione took the lead and Draco followed her from main floor, through the crowds of people, and out from the tent.

"What are you doing?" he asked as they vanished from the party under the cover of night. "My mother will be furious."

"Only if we get caught," she said mischievously. The path from the tent to Malfoy Manor remained unlit apart from the glow of the moon and they treaded slowly, Hermione stumbling a few times on uneven patches of ground, only to be caught by Draco. Eventually they creaked through the backdoor of the Manor, into the well lit kitchen. The house was oddly silent, Narcissa outside at the party, and all house elves allowed the evening off. Ever cautious, Hermione shushed Draco one final time in order to listen out for the sounds of others, but when none reached her ears she pulled him through the house.

"Granger, where on earth are we going?" he hissed, still taking her lead and remaining quiet. The effect was lost, however, by the clicking of her heeled feet on the hardwood floors.

She said nothing, only continued to lead him through the house, up the grand staircase, around a few bends until they reached his old bedroom. A cheeky smirk had worked its way up the side of her face and he raised his brow at her. "In here," she whispered, pulling him along. He opened his mouth to speak but she pressed her finger against his lips, effectively shushing him.

Stepping away from him until her legs almost hit the base of the bed, she twisted her arms around and undid the zipper at the back of her dress. Draco swallowed thickly and she let a smile creep up the side of her cheek. When the dress dropped, her wizard's eyes widened hugely and his mouth dropped open.

She had opted for Slytherin green undergarments, both parts decorated with a huge amount of lace. Her corset style top pushed her breasts up and clung to her curves and the lacy knickers left nothing to the imagination, not that Draco hadn't seen it all before. "You like?" she asked, tossing the discarded dress away and twirling on the spot.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, I like it a lot," Draco muttered, his mouth parched. He stepped towards her, shrugging out of his jacket and dropping it to the floor with a thump. His tie followed shortly after, and as soon as he reached Hermione she began to undo the buttons of his dress shirt. She pushed it from his shoulders and down his arms, returning her hands to the smooth planes of his chest. He shuddered as she ghosted her palms over his body and wound his hands through her hair, pulling her lips to his own.

Fireworks exploded behind their eyes as they kissed. It was only gentle, but more words transpired in that moment than they could ever speak. He moved his hands from her hair down her body, tracing her outline with gentle fingertips that sent shivers down her spine. He smiled into the kiss at her movements moving his hands until they were on her bum. She squealed lightly as he scooped her up and wrapped her legs around his body, him carrying her around to the bed where he all but fell on top of her.

She laughed and moved so she was on top of him, straddling his hips. He brought her head down until their lips met once more and she began to fumble with his belt buckle, finally undoing it and pulling down the zipper of his pants. He kicked them off along with his shoes and they fell to the floor at the foot of the bed. Tired of allowing her to have control, Draco flipped them over so he was on top, kissing her with a ravenous energy that made her moan into his mouth.

He fumbled with the tie of her corset, finally slipping it off her before hooking his thumbs around the waistband of her panties. He moved from her lips as he slid the green garment down her legs, kissing the pale skin as he went much to her delight. She quavered underneath his touch, his lips, his expert hands. He showed her paradise with his touch, drifting his hands everywhere, on every inch of her body until she become undone before him, crying out his name.

He rested his head on the pillow beside her, watching as she came down from her high. She tilted her head towards him with hooded eyes and a lazy smile. "You are perfect," he said softly, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers with so much tenderness and love that tears prickled at her eyes and leaked down her cheeks. "Why are you crying?" he frowned when he pulled away.

She shook her head, wiping the salty tears away with the back of her hand. "I love you," she whispered. "Gods, I love you _so _much. You have no idea."

Draco's responding smile was beautiful and dazzling as he kissed her again. "You are _everything_ to me. I love you," he replied. She was the only one who had ever - who _could_ ever – make him feel like this, say things like this. He had never felt this strongly about anyone in his life, and he never wanted it to end.

Slowly, he kissed her again and she pushed his boxers down as he moved back on top of her. They both cried out when he entered, and when they came it was as one as they cried out each other's names and their declarations of love.

**

* * *

A/N: Long time no see. I've finally finished school, so in between going out, being social, and drinking tea, I'm finding time to write. There's an epilogue still to come, which should be out (fingers crossed!) very soon.**


	28. Epilogue

**Two Years Later**

"Merlin, woman, let me carry it!" Draco groaned for the tenth time in the last five minutes.

"I'm _fine_," Hermione snapped, jerking the wrapped parcel away from him once again as they trampled up the snowy path to the front door of Malfoy Manor.

"It isn't right for me to let you carry it in your state," he countered.

"Sod off, Draco. I. Am. Fine," she growled. "Look, we're almost there."

He rolled his eyes at the stubbornness of his witch but conceded defeat as they were, indeed, almost at the front door. He helped her up the stairs, wrapping his arm around her waist for support as they climbed the icy levels. She smiled at him, readjusting the parcel in her arms with a little difficulty. The door flew open before they had even reached the top stair and Narcissa beamed at them.  
"Draco!" she admonished. "How could you let Hermione carry that huge parcel?"

"Merry Christmas to you, too, mother," he rolled his eyes, helping Hermione up the last step and kissing his mother on the cheek. "And I'll have you know that she is ridiculously stubborn about things like that. She absolutely refused to let me carry it."

"You must let him help you out occasionally, Hermione, particularly when you're this far along," Narcissa chided gently, taking the present from her. "Merry Christmas, you two. Everyone is already inside."

Narcissa walked ahead of them whilst Draco helped Hermione from her coat. "God, I look like a beached whale," Hermione sighed when she caught sight of herself.

"You're eight and a half months pregnant, Hermione," Draco rolled his eyes as he hung their coats up. "I'm sure you're meant to look like that. Besides, isn't this what you wanted?"

"I wanted a baby, yes, but I didn't think I'd ever get one like this," she frowned, placing her hands on her stomach. "And at the moment, all that I want is to get it out."

He laughed and kissed her forehead, placing his hands atop hers. "Give it time."

They broke apart and she slipped her hand into his, allowing him to lead the way to the parlour where the excited squeals of young children could be heard. Hermione smiled as they rounded the corner and saw the gathering of their friends and family. Pansy and Ron were canoodling like teenagers in the corner whilst their daughter, Daisy, toddled shakily after James Potter. Harry and Ginny were talking with Narcissa in front of the Christmas tree which stretched to the ceiling, lavishly and painstakingly decorated by Lady Malfoy herself.

At their arrival, Ginny immediately squealed and barrelled herself into Hermione's arms. Harry, holding their three month old son, Albus, was a little calmer in his approach. "You're getting big," he joked when he kissed her cheek and she smiled as he and Draco shook hands. Even after two and a half years, she couldn't believe that they got on as well as they did. "You've got to be almost due, yeah?"

"Two more weeks," Hermione said, patting her stomach fondly. She was still disbelieving that the pregnancy had gotten this far at all. "Though I wouldn't object to it coming out now."

"You say that now," Ginny wagged her finger in her friend's face, "but then the real fun starts. Midnight feedings, early morning crying, diapers, vomit…"

"You sure do know how to sell parenthood," Draco drawled. "C'mon, Hermione. You need to sit down."

Hermione rolled her eyes as Draco helped her into a chair, refusing to admit that her feet _were_ beginning to ache and her back was killing her. Draco vanished for a moment, returning with a glass of water for her, and they sat together as Pansy and Ron detached from each other and came to greet them.

"'Mione!" Ron said happily, bending down to kiss her cheek. "You look fit to burst."

Pansy slapped his arm. "Really, Ron? That's the last thing any pregnant woman wants to hear. Two weeks until the sucker is out, yeah?" she directed the question to Draco and he nodded. "Have fun."

"You guys are all really great at hyping me up for this kid," Hermione said dryly and Draco smiled.

"Nonsense, Hermione, don't listen to them," Narcissa swept over, refilling Hermione's glass of water with a flick of her wand. "Babies are wonderful. You'll have the time of your life with this little one."

"Mother, you _have_ to say that," Draco rolled his eyes. "You _are_ the grandmother, after all."

"Pish-posh!" Narcissa waved the comment away and opened her mouth to say something else, but Hermione beat her to the punch, issuing a shriek that got everyone's attention.

"Love?" Draco immediately questioned, his eyes full of concern for his witch's health. "What's wrong? Are you okay? Is it the baby?"

Hermione nodded. "My water just broke."

The flurry of excitement was incredible. Draco immediately looked to his mother with fearful eyes, Narcissa's face broke into the widest smile any of them had ever seen, Pansy snatched up Daisy whilst Ron grabbed her purse, and Harry and Ginny raced over with their children in tow. Draco, ignoring Hermione's protests that she could walk, scooped her into his arms and carted her over to the fireplace. She grabbed a handful of floo powder and they spun away to St. Mungo's.

**Twelve Hours Later**

The sound of an infant's cry filled the room and Hermione felt oddly empty as she fell back into the bed. Draco was holding her hand, whispering sweet, comforting words into her hair, but she could not distinguish one from another. She saw the tiny thing that was making all the racket be taken away momentarily, only to be returned less than a minute later, squeaky clean from a charm of some sort and wrapped in a soft blue blanket.

"My baby," she whispered, and, using the last bit of strength she thought she had left in her, she reached out for the bundle. The medi-witch placed the baby in her arms and she lifted the child slightly. "My Scorpius."

"Our baby, love," Draco was kneeling beside her now, his arm around her and his other hand on Scorpius' head. "Our son."

A wave of emotion overcame her and tears leaked from her eyes and down her cheeks. Draco, noticing this, leaned over and kissed them away gently.

"I love you," he reminded her gently. "We both do."

**A/N: Tear, it's over. **

**I'd like to give a HUGE thanks to everyone who has reviewed, favourited, read, and put this story/me on alert. It means a lot to me. I was actually going to take this epilogue as a chance to announce my retirement from fanfiction, but I was re-reading some reviews and you've inspired me to keep up with it. **

**Thank you all so much!**


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